


Not Natural

by tfw_cas



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Action & Romance, Action/Adventure, Actor!Dean, Actor!Sam, Alternate Universe - Fusion, Angel!Castiel, Angels, Ash Is Scared, Based On Galaxy Quest, Blow Jobs, Bobby Is A Cool Customer, But I Made It Smutty Anyway, Castiel/Dean Winchester First Time, Comedy, Conventions, Creepy Galaxy Quest Creatures, Crowley is done, Dean is In Over His Head, Everyone Is An Actor, Except The Angels, F/F, Galaxy Quest Has No Smut, Hand Jobs, Hands Of God, Jo Is Angry, Kissing, M/M, Minor Character Death, Nerds Save The Day, SPN Media Big Bang 2020, Sam Has One Job, Smut, The Book of the Damned, The Ghostfacers (Supernatural), The Samulet - Freeform, This Is The Real Loki, This Isn't The Loki From Marvel Or Supernatural, Werepire, Who Are Clueless, and he's PISSED
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-05
Updated: 2020-05-05
Packaged: 2021-03-01 20:02:12
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 8
Words: 38,206
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23772766
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tfw_cas/pseuds/tfw_cas
Summary: As the star of the fantasy show Not Natural, Dean Winchester used to be a big name; at least he was before the show was cancelled after season five. Now he and the rest of the cast spend much of their time at conventions, reliving the glory days, and trying not to fall out with each other... or is it just Dean they don’t get along with?When the fantasy world of the show suddenly comes crashing into their real lives, they’re required to help a group of angels who believe that the show is real, and that Dean and the crew are actually hunters. As their mission becomes increasingly dangerous, the cast must band together as they once pretended to do on the show, to stop Loki’s determination to destroy Heaven. This is particularly important to Dean, as his affection continues to blossom for Castiel, the angels’ enigmatic (and extremely attractive) leader.
Relationships: Castiel/Dean Winchester, Hannah/Jo Harvelle
Comments: 88
Kudos: 68
Collections: SPN Media Big Bang 2020, The Destiel Fan Survey Favs Collection





	1. Episode One

**Author's Note:**

> To say that 2020 has been a difficult year - is it still only May? - is the understatement of, well… the year. What’s sustained me through all the difficulties has been my family and friends, and my writing. Knowing that I had three bangs to get finished was at times stressful, but also, it gave me something to focus on and work towards. So, here is the first of the three, but first… thanks.
> 
> To my wonderful friend [anyrei](https://archiveofourown.org/users/anyrei), who not only made me beautiful beautiful art for this fic, but also went above and beyond with help and suggestions to make the story better. The link to the art masterpost is [here](https://anyreiart.tumblr.com/post/617257341379903488/art-masterpost-for-spn-media-bang-2020-my-art), and for more gorgeous anyrei art, [click here](https://anyreiart.tumblr.com/). Funny story: I was very careful not to give away any clues about my fic before art claims, so when Any was deciding on her top picks, Frankie and Trex almost lost it with us both being so insistent on sticking rigidly to the rules. Also, Any was pretty certain that this fic wasn’t mine, because of the way I wrote the tags (I think I channeled Frankie there). Anyway, I couldn’t have been happier with how it worked out, and it’s been an absolute pleasure working with you. 💚
> 
> To my equally wonderful friend Frankie… [mugglerock](https://archiveofourown.org/users/mugglerock), alpha par excellence. Thank you from the bottom of my heart for trying so hard to whip me, and this fic, into shape. It wouldn’t have been half as good without your help. You rock! 💖
> 
> Huge thanks also to the lovely Sarah… [Emblue_Sparks](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Emblue_Sparks), for helping me more than once when I was stuck. Your suggestions were awesome, and really got me out of a jam. 💜
> 
> Finally, thanks to the mods of the [SPN Media Big Bang](https://spn-mediabigbang.tumblr.com/). This was a really fun bang to participate in, and the mods were always helpful and understanding. 🧡
> 
> Okay, that’s enough chick flick moments, on with the fic…

TITLE: “Not Natural”

_Rolling Credits:_

Dean Winchester as Dean Smith

Sam Winchester as Samuel Wesson

Crowley as Fergus MacLeod

Bobby Singer as Robert Salvage

Jo Harvelle as Beth Roadhouse

INT. A BAR - NIGHT.

An unremarkable bar, a little rundown, but generally clean. Dean Smith is sitting next to Sid, the neighbor he befriended shortly after moving in with Lisa, on one of the barstools near the end of the bartop.

SID

What kinda work did you used to do?

DEAN

(slowly turns bourbon glass in his hand)

Pest control.

CUT TO: 

MONTAGE

-Dean hears screams and begins to see strange things around town, claw marks where claw marks should not be. 

-Dean searches newspapers and the internet, and is unable to find anything nefarious, no reported crimes, no missing persons.

-Lisa grows suspicious of his behavior and follows Dean to the storage shed where he keeps the 1967 CHEVY IMPALA.

-Dean finally tells Lisa that he suspects they are the target of a supernatural creature and persuades her to take Ben to the movies.

BACK TO SCENE

INT. GARAGE - EVENING

A demon from Dean’s past appears - AZAZEL. Dean is startled, he stumbles back and reaches for the “special” toolbox he keeps some of his higher grade weapons. He manages to brandish a long, silver blade and lunges forward. When his attempt is easily ducked, Azazel grabs Dean by the throat and slams him against the wall. Just as Dean is about to pass out from the lack of oxygen, his previously deceased friend, SAM barges into the garage.

DEAN

(just before he passes out)

Get me the Book of the Damned.

TITLE: “To be continued…”

  
  


The screen in the auditorium faded to black, and Ash, who was MC for the opening event of day one of the _Not Natural_ convention, pointed towards it in exaggerated excitement. “Well, there you are. Yeah? You are the first people to see the lost episode of _Not Natural_ since it was filmed in 2010. Yeah! Alright...” He hoped his enthusiasm would rub off on the crowd, who were beginning to grow restless.

The creator of _Not Natural_ had always intended for the show to end at season five, but the cast and crew had gone ahead and filmed the opening of an episode they hoped would be the start of a sixth season. A select few people had seen it before it had been shelved and forgotten, along with any plans for a sixth season, but now they were screening it to stall the convention goers before the main cast came out on stage.

The crowd clapped, but the mood was becoming more uneasy by the second. They had paid good money to see the cast of the show, not someone little more than an extra, who had appeared in a handful of episodes.

“And now,” Ash continued, “the moment you’ve all been waiting for. The best, baddest hunters in the world. Yeah!” 

~~~

Backstage, in the poor excuse for a green room, the atmosphere was becoming ever more fraught with tension, as the noise from the auditorium filtered through to them. Crowley half-heartedly applied makeup to his nose, Bobby attempted to entertain himself with a puzzle book he’d found, and Sam hovered anxiously by the door that led to the stage.

“Where the hell is he? An hour and a half late? An hour and a half.” Jo stayed seated in her chair, discarding her newspaper in disgust and throwing her hands up in the air. 

“I mean, this is unreal,” Sam said in exasperation as he gestured in the direction of the stage. “They’re gonna start eating each other out there.”

“Oh, did you hear? He booked another appearance without us,” Jo continued with her rant.

“You’re kidding,” Sam said with an eye roll. Dean might be his brother, but at this moment, he could happily kill him. Keeping everyone waiting was par for the course for him, but taking a job on his own was just shitty.

~~~

Onstage, and about to introduce the actors, Ash was dismayed to receive the signal from a member of the stage crew that they were _still_ not ready to make their entrance. Shaking his head ‘no’ and gesturing frantically with his hands, he mouthed, ‘stretch it out’. Ash hesitantly turned back to the baying crowd, feeling a rising desperation.

_Shit_. He looked at his watch in despair, and began to tell yet another story of how Sam Winchester played pranks on the other cast members. This unfortunately failed to placate the crowd, whose restlessness was beginning to feel dangerous.

_Where the hell was Dean Winchester anyway_?

~~~

Everyone backstage was well aware of how the situation was escalating, and Sam felt both sorry for, and thankful that he was not, that Ash guy who was bearing the brunt of the crowd’s anger.

Sam watched Crowley drop his makeup brush and glare at his reflection in the old, dilapidated mirror. “How did I come to this?” he grumbled in his clipped English accent. 

“Not again.” Jo shook her head in obvious dismay at what she knew was coming next.

“I played Richard the Third,” Crowley continued.

“Five curtain calls,” Bobby mocked, as he attempted to pry open the cookie tin catering had given them. They had all heard this speech more times than they could count.

Crowley carried on regardless, “There were five curtain calls. I was an actor once, dammit. Now look at me. Look at me,” he shouted, then gave an exaggerated sigh. “I won’t go out there, and I won’t say that stupid line one more time.” He threw the tiny towel he had been supplied with onto the vanity. “I can’t. I won’t.” He stood up from his chair and began pacing the room.

“Well, Crowley, at least you had a part. At least you had a character people loved,” Sam implored as Crowley sat down in the chair next to him. 

“I mean, my TV Guide interview was six paragraphs about my six pack and my abs, and my hair and workout routines.” Sam stood and gestured towards himself helplessly.

Crowley rolled his eyes in a manner that would have befitted Sam Winchester himself, or his alter ego, Sam Wesson.

“No one even bothered to ask what I do on the show,” Sam complained.

“You had the… wait, wait. I’ll think of it.” Bobby’s attempt at helping wasn’t making Sam feel any better.

“I said, ‘so get this’, before repeating the details of each case like some kind of robot,” Sam said, with a bitterness to rival Crowley’s.

In that moment the outside door swung open and Dean Winchester strolled in without a care in the world, wearing sunglasses, and radiating his trademark charm. “Hoo! I'm here,” he said, spreading his arms wide in greeting. In a clear attempt to appear jovial and playful, he laughed before saying, “Wow, that smog is thick today, huh?” 

Bending down to Crowley’s eyeline and removing his sunglasses with a flourish, he joked, “Am I too late for Crowley’s panic attack?”

Clearly in no mood to indulge Dean’s pathetic attempt at humor, Crowley clutched his head in his hands and turned away in anger, leaning on the cracked surface of the vanity. To avoid punching his brother, Sam stomped back to the door to the stage, and stood, his back pointedly turned to his brother. Jo adopted a similar tactic by sitting with a newspaper held right in front of her face. Only Bobby was unaffected by the rising irritation in the room, and he silently carried on trying, and failing, to open the cookie tin.

Dean was either oblivious to how pissed everyone was, or he was ignoring it, as he kept trying to engage someone… _anyone,_ in some banter.

“Apparently not. You know, you should get that looked at. Yeah,” he laughed unconvincingly, as he flicked at one of Crowley’s prosthetic horns. 

In response, Crowley cringed away from him and muttered under his breath.

Finally it seemed that Dean caught on that no one was talking to him, and he turned to Jo, who lifted the newspaper higher. 

“Okay, what did I do?” Dean threw up his arms in defeat, as he looked around the room. He was clearly entirely unaware of what he was supposed to have done to warrant the anger being directed towards him.

Jo snatched the newspaper down from her face and glared at him.

“What?” Dean asked. 

Was he really that ignorant? Sam mused as he became aware of the ever rising tension out in the auditorium. The crowd was now chanting, ‘we want the crew’, while poor Ash carried on trying to distract them, despite the probability that no one could even hear him. 

“For those five seasons, we developed the same affection for the cast as the cast had for each other,” Ash said, pointing at the screen, which was now showing clips of Dean and Sam in character, then Dean and Crowley. “I mean, they weren’t just saving people, hunting things. These were friends... family.”

Ironically, the heartwarming moments being depicted on screen were the very opposite of what was actually happening backstage. Sam and Jo had had enough of giving Dean the cold shoulder and were now giving him a piece of their minds.

“Unbelievable,” Sam accused, with his arms crossed in defiance.

“You’re so full of shit,” Jo shouted at him as she jumped up from the chair. She might be small, but she was feisty as hell; you did not want to get on the wrong side of her.

“It's not a big deal. These guys put a little set in their basement. I'm there about an hour. It's nothing, Sam. They wanted Dean.” He gestured to himself, trying his utmost to convince Sam that taking a job on his own was perfectly fine, while Sam gaped at him incredulously. 

Unnoticed by his quarrelling cast mates, Crowley had pulled on his coat, and as Sam was about to go off on Dean, Crowley bolted for the door. 

“There he goes,” observed Bobby, deadpan, as Sam, Dean and Jo chased after their distraught colleague.

“Crowley, wait!” Dean called after him, then yelled to Jo, who was closest, “grab him! Grab him!”

~~~

The shouts of, “We want the cast,” had now reached fever pitch, so it was just as well that the stage crew guy picked that moment to signal to Ash that he could at last start announcing the cast.

_Finally._

“Okay! Yeah! Here we go,” he said into the microphone with a sense of relief. This had been a tough crowd.

~~~

Sam and Dean, meanwhile, were doing everything they could to get Crowley to come back inside. Sam was conflicted, because a part of him just wanted to tell Dean to go screw himself and leave too, but he was a professional - unlike his brother - and didn’t want to let the fans down. 

“Come on, old friend. Old friend!” Dean exclaimed, taking hold of Crowley’s coat and gently pushing him back through the door.

“Friend?” Crowley complained bitterly, fighting against Dean’s attempts to get him back inside. “You stole all my best lines, you cut me out of episode one hundred and two entirely!”

“Excuse me!” Sam interrupted, upon hearing the cue that he was needed onstage, pushing past the two men as they grappled with each other.

~~~

“Sam Wesson, my personal favorite, Sam Winchester! Yeah!” Ash’s words were practically drowned out by the cheering when Sam appeared onstage, flicking his hair dramatically, and posing as seductively as he was able. His role on the show might have been one-dimensional, but he knew what the audience wanted.

“It's getting hotter out here,” Ash continued, clearly relishing in his task now. “Yeah, that's what I'm talking about! Let's hear a warm welcome for Beth Roadhouse, Jo Harvelle!

~~~

Dean was still imploring Crowley to stay. “You will go out there,” he said, grabbing handfuls of Crowley’s lapels.

“I won’t, and nothing you say will make me,” Crowley argued.

“The show must go on,” Dean replied, knowing that Crowley would never be able to resist that barefaced attempt at manipulation.

He was proven right, as Crowley’s expression morphed from irritation to dismay, and finally resignation. “Damn you,” he uttered, shaking himself free of Dean and throwing off his coat. He stormed off towards the stage entrance, throwing the words, “I won’t say that stupid line one more time,” over his shoulder.

~~~

“Crowley!” Ash whooped, as the man in question walked onto the stage, scowl firmly in place. And even though he wasn’t saying the line that he found so distasteful, the enormous screen behind his head bore his likeness, and the words, ‘Even when I lose, I win,’ boomed out of the speakers to torment him further.

“And finally tonight,” Ash announced, barely able to contain his excitement, “my fellow NoNaticles, the brave leader of this band of hunters; Dean, Dean, Dean, Dean…” 

_What on earth is Ash doing_? Sam wondered, staring at the man as he echoed his own words. 

“Smith, Smith, Smith, Smith… Dean Winchester! Yeah! All right!”

Dean swaggered out onto the stage, pointing his finger guns at the stage crew, the crowd, and his fellow cast members. 

In response, the crowd went wild, screaming and hollering, with the voice of one particularly enthusiastic fan carrying above the others, shouting, “We love you, Dean."

Dean grinned back, and practically purred, “Awesome,” into the microphone. 

His character in the show was large as life on the screen behind him and he, along with the audience, prepared themselves to repeat his famous catchphrase. With one voice, the, “Sonofabitch,” rang throughout the building, and Dean stood like a conquering hero with his arms raised in triumph.

_Goddam, he knows how to work the crowd_ , Sam thought as he felt the slightest pang of jealousy. Dean got this reaction every single time, and Sam wondered what he would have to do to get the crowd to love him like that. 

“Dean and his gang will be signing autographs next to the Coke machines," Ash said, his final words before leaving the stage. He had done his job well, and gone above and beyond covering for Dean's lateness. Sam hoped the convention organizers would give him some extra money to reflect that, but in reality, he doubted that would happen.

Dean was attempting to carry on talking to the crowd, but his microphone had been cut. He held it aloft and pointed at it in frustration, causing Sam to shoot him one of the bitchfaces he was famous for. 

_Oh, so now they weren’t even going to be allowed to talk to the audience?_ Sam blamed Dean for that, seeing as it was he who had kept everyone waiting for so long.

After a few moments of hesitation, they all left the stage, dissatisfaction hanging in the air. However, the audience still seemed restless, and Sam could hear the frantic clamoring for Dean’s attention persisting long after they’d left. 

___________

Sam and the rest of the cast had been set up behind a long table - or more accurately, a series of smaller tables shoved together - right by the Coke machines, as Ash had promised; and speaking of Ash, Sam could see him pushing his way through the lines of people waiting for their autographs. 

“Excuse me, pardon me, cast member coming through,” Ash huffed as he moved through the waiting people. “Fans, right? Hey, Sam,” he said when he finally made it through to the front.

Before Sam could respond to the friendly greeting, Jo spoke up, “Hey. I want to thank you for that nice intro you gave us today.”

Jo clearly hadn’t recognized Ash from his appearances on the show, and Sam and Ash apparently came to this realization at the same time, judging from the look on the guy’s face.

He lowered the sunglasses he had put on, and ran his hand through his trademark mullet. “You probably don’t remember me, do you? It's the sunglasses, right? I was on the show for a few episodes in season two, before they killed me offscreen.” He gestured towards himself.

From Jo’s slight shrug of the shoulders, and the helpless look she shot at Sam, she clearly still didn’t remember Ash.

The guy was seemingly undeterred despite the underwhelming reception they gave him. Reaching into his bag, he pulled out a bunch of glossy photographs of himself, and asked, “Listen, maybe I could sit in and sign a couple of autographs?”

Crowley looked decidedly unimpressed by the whole exchange, but Sam had no objections to Ash joining them, and he smiled back in encouragement. 

Crowley had never tried to hide his distaste for these conventions, and today was no different. He glowered with barely disguised loathing at every fan who approached him, and the situation was not helped by the fact that every single one of them insisted on saying that hated line to him. 

“Even when I lose, I win,” offered the next young man in line.

Crowley scowled at him and snatched the picture from his hand, silently writing on it before handing it back, now bearing his signature.

The next fan in line had hardly opened his mouth to start speaking the words before Crowley gave him a challenging glare that said, ‘Don’t you dare finish that.’ The fan obviously thought better of it and closed his mouth. 

Crowley scribbled his autograph and said, “Next,” with all of the enthusiasm of a dead fish.

This convention had been a mixture of both high points and low, Sam mused to himself, but the fans were having fun. Especially the ones surrounding Dean’s spot on his own at the far end of the table, while he entertained them with some ridiculous story, no doubt. Observing them for a few moments, Sam had to admit that Dean’s popularity with the fans was undeniable.

“You gotta admit, they really do love him,” he said, drawing Jo’s attention to Dean and the adoring looks he was getting from his fans.

Jo’s response was a very sarcastic, “Yeah, almost as much as he loves himself.”

Well, there was no way Sam was going to argue with that.

~~~

Dean Winchester was feeling upbeat. He'd had a very pleasant encounter with a fan on the way to the convention, and on top of that, the way the fans here had welcomed him onto the stage made him feel loved… validated. Sure the rest of the cast were pissed at him for being late, but the thing that fan did with his tongue was fucking amazing. Or maybe it was the other thing they were pissed about - the solo gig.

_Ah, screw it._ He hadn't intended on being late, and the fans were more important than them anyway.

Dean and his fellow actors were seated behind a long row of tables, signing autographs. It wasn't the most exciting thing in the world, but he liked the opportunity this gave him to engage with the fans; maybe even give them a story or two to remember. He had briefly wondered why he was seated away from everyone else, but he figured it was because his line was longer, and he needed more room. _Yeah, that must be it._

He was in the middle of telling a group of fans about the demon that possessed Sam and shot Dean in season two. “Had I moved an inch to the left, the black eyed bastard would have killed me. On the other hand, the other hunters were in danger.”

A young boy, about eleven years old, stared at Dean, clearly enraptured. “How did you know what to do?” he asked.

“Come on! Without my team, I'm not a leader, huh? I think we all remember what happened to that wendigo we encountered in season one, right?”

The boy nodded in agreement, and there were gasps and murmurs of appreciation from the other fans; each one hanging onto his every word.

_In the end, this was what it was all about, wasn’t it?_

When he glanced over and caught Jo staring at him before quickly looking away, he made the decision to go over to talk to her. Which was momentarily halted by a couple of extremely eager young men approaching him at the table and babbling on about some technical stuff, but Dean was barely listening. Not now that he had Jo in his sights.

“Excuse me, Dean. Hey!” The young man, who appeared to be their designated spokesperson, said, “I was wondering if you could help settle a dispute that my friend and I seem to be having. If you remember, in season one episode four…”

Dean stood up from his chair, stopping the question with an, “Excuse me for a minute, fellas,” to the young man, before walking away. He knew he should probably have stayed and talked to them, but he felt drawn to Jo; he was fairly certain he had seen a look of desire in her eyes. The little voice telling him that it might have actually been disgust had to be wrong, surely. _Only one way to find out._

He felt a tiny twinge of regret when he heard the young man lamenting that, “I haven’t even gotten to the relevant conundrum.” Dean knew he could get to them later, for now he wanted to seize the moment, before it vanished for good.

Dean strolled over to stand behind Jo, who at that moment was being asked a most interesting question by a fan.

“In season two episode six, I got the feeling that you and Dean kind of had a thing. Did you?”

Jo’s answer was an emphatic, “No, he and I never had a thing.” She shook her head for good measure. 

That seemed unnecessarily harsh if he was honest, but undeterred, Dean leaned his elbows on the table so that he and Jo were on the same level, and said, “Well, that’s her story.”

As if intentionally trying to interrupt them, one of the stage hands came over, patted Jo on the shoulder and spoke into her ear. That was Jo’s cue that she was needed for some photo-ops with a group of cosplayers, and she wasted no time in getting to her feet to push past Dean with a look of determination on her face. “Excuse me,” she muttered as she walked away.

_Oh, come on,_ thought Dean. He followed behind her, whispering loudly, “Jo… Jo.”

She either didn’t hear him, or was set on ignoring him. She dodged past a group of men and women all dressed in the show’s classic angel garb of grey suits and white shirts, whose presence Dean completely failed to notice until they stopped him in his tracks. _Goddamit._

Dean tried to skip past them, but the guy in front stepped right in front of him, blocking his way pretty effectively. Unlike his companions, he was wearing an ill-fitting trench coat over his suit, and his blue tie was slightly twisted. Dean took in the rest of his appearance, noting that he had the kind of wind-blown hair that Dean would like to run his fingers through, gorgeous pink lips, and the most startling blue eyes he had ever seen. “Dean,” he started, in a rich, gravelly voice, that was so deep it felt almost otherworldly.

Despite the attractiveness of the guy, Dean didn’t really have time for this, and he gave the man a firm, “Excuse me," before sidestepping him.

The guy wasn’t easily deterred, it seemed, and he tried again, “I must speak to you. It is a matter of supreme importance. We are angels, come down from Heaven, and we need your help."

Realizing these must be the people who had booked him for tomorrow, Dean made a hand gesture indicating for him to lower his voice. “Whoa, whoa, is this about the gig tomorrow? Hammer out the details with my agent, and make sure there’s a limo at my house.” 

Dean couldn’t say why he did it, but he took hold of the lead ‘angel’s’ tie and straightened it. The guy said nothing, but he tilted his head and squinted his eyes at him. _He’s fucking hot, but they’re a real strange bunch,_ he thought, glancing at the others, who stared back at him blankly. _A limo is the least I deserve._

“Last time I did one of these gigs, they shoved me in the back of a Toyota,” Dean continued, giving the ‘angel’ a searching look. 

“Certainly, but-” he tried once more.

“And remember: mum’s the word,” Dean interrupted. Adding a “Shh, okay?” With a finger to his lips, he left to find Jo. He did not need these nerds talking to Sammy and the others, and pissing them off again.

He could hear them all repeating the word, ‘mum,’ as if it was some kind of sacred word, as he walked away. It was lucky they were paying him, because… _wow!_ Weird didn’t quite cover it.

After searching for a couple of minutes, Dean eventually found Jo, who was having a lot of fun posing with a group of women who were cosplaying her character, Beth. There was a great deal of laughter coming from their direction, and they were all smiling. _Might as well try wooing her while she’s in such a great mood,_ Dean thought, as he went over to them, wearing one of his best smiles.

Gently taking hold of Jo’s elbow, he said in his most seductive voice, “Beth Roadhouse, your siren call is filling my head with such strange thoughts.” He pulled her towards him a little, and stared deeply into her eyes, hoping she would be unable to resist him.

Jo’s response was harsh and assertive, “It was cute when I didn’t know you.” She pushed his hands off her and strode purposefully away.

_Damn, that stung._ But while Dean might like the ladies - and the men - he was no creep. He’d gotten Jo’s message loud and clear, and was going to back off. Suddenly realizing that, although Jo had left, the women cosplaying Beth were still standing behind him, and were probably watching to see how he would react, he turned to face them with a half-hearted smile. They all giggled at him, and he belatedly realised that he’d been foolish for thinking Jo might be interested in him.

Feeling more hurt than he wanted to admit, even to himself, Dean beat a hasty retreat to the bathroom. Shielding his face with his hand so as not to be recognized, he was frustrated to see that all the urinals were being used. Maybe a stall was a better option anyway; he could take the opportunity to lick his wounds in privacy for a few moments.

The moment Dean locked the stall door, he heard loud laughter from at least two guys. Thank fuck he was in here, away from the disturbance they were creating with their raucous laughter. 

He was about to sit down on the toilet lid when one of them started talking, and it was just as loud. _Jeeze!_

“What a freak show, man; this is hilarious,” he started. “Bunch of losers! Begging for autographs at fifty-five bucks a pop. These guys haven't had a real acting job for ten years. This is all they've got. And did you check out Dean Winchester?”

_What the hell?_ Dean froze; he didn’t want to listen to this shit, but maybe if he stayed quiet they would shut up and leave.

His friend snickered, and replied, “He actually gets off on those freaks.”

_Damn._ If he wasn’t worried about the inevitable bad PR that would arise from an altercation with these ‘fans’, Dean would burst out of the stall and tell these douchebags to shut their pie holes.

“Oh, yeah. Thinking he's a real hunter!”

Well, that just wasn’t true; Dean knew the difference between reality and make believe, for fuck’s sake. 

“And his friends.”

“I know. They can't stand him! Did you hear them ragging on him in there? Dude... he has no idea he's a laughing stock, even to his buddies.”

That was a shitty thing to say, and Dean knew it was totally not true. They were a happy family, who enjoyed spending time together, weren’t they? Despite wanting to believe this, that nagging little voice was there again, telling him that these asshats were correct.

“He's pathetic!” A voice cut through his thoughts.

The cruel taunts devastated Dean; cutting him deeply, like a knife to the heart. Yeah, it was true he wasn’t getting much acting work these days, but his fans - their fans - loved these conventions. They were always sold out, dammit. That meant something, surely. 

“Come on, come on. The _Not Natural_ dancers are almost on,” one of them said sarcastically, before their voices faded with their departure.

_Fuck it._ Dean just needed to get through the rest of this crappy job, then go home and crawl inside a bottle. He went back to his table and resumed signing the autographs, but his heart was no longer in it. He found himself writing them almost mechanically, not bothering to even look at the people he was signing them for. What was the point if he was just a joke?

Dean’s heart sank even further when the two guys from earlier - before Dean went looking for Jo - showed up again. He didn’t need any more of this shit today. 

“Hey, Dean,” the one who’d spoken before started once more with his question. “So, as I was saying, in, ‘Phantom Traveler,’ remember, you said you made your EMF meter out of a Walkman. Can you explain how you did that?”

Dean sighed in disbelief; they really had picked the wrong day for this shit. “It's just a television show. That's all, okay?” he said in the calmest tone he could manage.

Unfortunately for him, the young man was not getting the hint. “Right, but... 'Cause we were wondering what technique you used. Did you use any other parts-”

_Nope._ Dean had to put a stop to this nonsense, right now. He slammed his hands on the table and shouted, “There's no such thing as ghosts, or ghouls. No goddamn EMF meters, no supernatural. You got it?”

He could see everyone staring at him for his outburst; he needed to get out of there. Dean stormed off, past the fans waiting in line… past his ‘friends’, and set off for home. 

_Fucking fuck everyone_.

~~~

Sam was utterly shocked when his brother shouted at a small group of fans before rushing out of the convention. He wasn’t always the most professional of people, but that was not like him at all. To say he was concerned about his brother’s mental state was an understatement.

They were just going to have to finish this day without Dean, and hopefully he would be in a much better place the next time they saw him.

___________

Once the convention was over, and Sam was back home and showered, he tried calling Dean. Predictably, he got no answer and was about to try again when his phone rang. The name Crowley flashed on the screen. 

After some irrelevant small talk, Crowley asked if Sam had had any contact with Dean. 

Sam answered in the negative, before voicing his concerns for his brother’s well-being. “I mean it. I mean it, Crowley. I've never seen him lose it like that. Not to a fan. I mean, it was just weird.” 

Crowley was a lot less sympathetic towards their dear ‘leader’. “Sam, I have said it for years. He's mentally unstable.”

Sam really hoped Crowley was wrong, and it was just a bad day. “I... I'm worried. It just was not like him.”

_He would be okay, wouldn’t he?_


	2. Episode Two

Dean padded into his conservatory wearing nothing but his shirt, underwear and socks, clutching a bottle of whiskey in one hand, and a glass in the other. He’d taken his pants off - it wasn’t like anyone was going to see him like this, after all.

He flung himself onto the sofa, not even bothering to look at the view. He'd used his income from _Not Natural_ to have this conservatory built so it overlooked the Pacific Ocean, but today he felt too bitter to appreciate it. 

After pouring himself a large glass of whiskey, and taking a long sip that burned his throat, Dean picked up the remote control, and began flipping through the channels on his TV. And of course… there was an episode of _Not Natural_ playing. Fucking TNT. _Great!_ That's what he needed; a reminder of how pathetic he was. 

His character Dean was on screen, saying one of his most famous lines. _'You know, saving people, hunting things_. _The family business.'_

Dean couldn't help but repeat the words along with his alter-ego, but he found himself stumbling over them. _I can't even get that right,_ he thought, with a heavy heart. He reached for the bottle again. It was time to get very very drunk. 

___________

  
  


Dean was struggling to open his eyes - it felt like someone had glued them shut. As he gradually came back to the land of the living, he realized that it was morning, and he was lying on the floor of his conservatory. 

_That must have been a great night, huh?_ he thought, as a persistent knocking began filtering through to his brain. 

Managing to lift his head a little, Dean was able to see people peering at him through the glass, and from the way they were dressed, they looked like cosplayers. Why were they at his house? _What the hell?_

Dean pulled himself into a sitting position, only to discover that someone was hammering nails into his head. Probably the same person who glued his eyes shut. He lifted his hand to his head and held it for a few moments; a futile gesture. The truth was, it hadn't been a great night, and nothing was going to get rid of this headache.

He looked back up, just to check, and sure enough, his unwelcome visitors were still there, and still wearing their costumes.

_No, no, no, no._ This wasn’t happening, even if they were smiling at him and saluting him. What were they thinking, coming to his house?

Dean got to his feet, and stumbled over to the glass door. With a sigh, he slid it open a few inches and peered at his visitors, trying to get his vision to focus. “Can I help you?” he rasped; god, his mouth was dry.

“Sir, I understand this is a terrible breach in protocol…” one of the guys started, but Dean was not happy about it.

“You shouldn’t come to my house, man,” he interrupted. 

The guy was persistent - and dedicated to his role of… angel? - Dean had to give him that. He carried on faultlessly spouting his ‘tale of woe’ to Dean, obviously wanting him to play along. “Please, I beg you to hear our plea. We are angels from Heaven. Our kind are being systematically hunted and slaughtered by Loki, the God of Mischief. We are to meet in negotiation. However, our efforts in this regard have been disastrous.”

Dean opened his eyes as wide as he was able, and took a couple of deep breaths of the fresh air that was coming through the door. The air in the conservatory was stale, and reeked of booze.

“Please, Dean.” The man’s voice was fucking weird and deep as hell, but Dean figured it sounded distorted because of this damned hangover. 

The man continued talking, “You are our last hope.” Geeks like this, who were role playing their parts and wanted Dean to join in, weren’t normally this pushy, but this guy really wasn’t giving up.

_Jeeze._ Couldn’t they leave him alone to go back to sleep?

“We have secured our limousine.” He tilted his head, and peered at Dean expectantly.

_A limo?_ Wait. A vague memory of these people began growing in Dean’s brain; he’d met them yesterday, and was supposed to be doing some kind of event with them. Of course! “Oh, oh, oh, yeah,” he said as he put a hand to his head, desperately trying to remember a name, or any details at all. “It's the thing for the thing that's…” Nope, it seemed he was going to have to wing it, and hopefully they wouldn’t notice.

In that moment, the guy’s piercing blue gaze travelled slowly down Dean’s body and lingered on his bare legs, and… now Dean remembered him. The eyes, and the lips, and the hair, and that voice.

Dean also looked down, and grinned, not even a little apologetically. “Maybe I should get some pants on.” He lifted his gaze back up and when they made eye contact he felt like the guy was looking into his soul. It was intense as fuck, and the longer it went on, the more reluctant Dean was to look away. There was a thrill of excitement running down his spine, and Dean really wished Blue Eyes had come to collect him on his own.

After what felt like hours, Dean broke off the eye contact, and glanced behind him into the room. He didn’t want to look away, but he really should get ready at some point. Dean opened the door wide enough for all his visitors to enter, paying close attention to the way Blue Eyes moved as he walked. “Come on in,” he said, very much liking what he saw.

When they were all inside, they huddled together, smiling at Dean in a slightly unsettling way; giving off the strangest vibe, as if smiling was completely new to them. 

_Weird._

An awkward silence descended as they appraised each other, and Dean searched for a way to break the ice. An idea struck him then; one that would get them moving, and give his admirer an interesting view. Dropping to the floor once more, and sticking his ass up in the air, he began rooting around under the sofa for the shoes he knew were in here somewhere.

“Dean, I must say that standing here in your presence is the greatest honor we could ever have hoped to achieve in our lifetime…” Blue Eyes’ voice trailed off as Dean gave his butt the slightest of wiggles. 

Dean would have been quite happy to continue giving him a show, but when he spotted one half of the previously elusive footwear he shifted his position. Oddly, the other shoe didn’t appear to be with this one.

“That's... I really appreciate that,” he said, pulling the shoe out and holding it up in the air. “Would you guys look for another shoe that looks like this, please?”

Without moving from where they stood, the entire group began casting glances around the room; first down at the floor, then up to the ceiling.

_Why the fuck would the missing shoe be on the ceiling?_ If Dean didn’t still have the hangover from Hell, he might have scrutinized their actions more closely, because from where he was kneeling on the floor, it appeared that they might actually believe they were real angels, who didn’t have a clue about normal human behavior.

Well, as long as he got paid, who was he to judge? It wasn’t like he didn’t make his living pretending to be other people, was it?

___________

  
  


Once Dean’s other shoe had been found, and he was dressed and as ready as he could manage, he found himself in the limousine with the ‘angels’ on their way to the gig they’d hired him for. He wanted to stare at Blue Eyes all day - actually, what he really wanted was to be alone with him - but that wouldn’t be fair on the others, would it? After all, they were just as responsible for hiring him. He took a good look at them for the first time; as well as Blue Eyes, there were two guys and one chick.

They seemed pleasant enough; certainly all the smiling they were engaging in would suggest that. Either that or it was fake and they were secretly kidnapping him. 

_Nah, they were harmless, weren’t they?_ Blue Eyes looked like he wanted to devour him, but definitely in the fun, sexy way.

“Sir, I am Inias, senior officer in the garrison.” The guy sitting directly opposite spoke for the first time, and his voice was just as odd as Blue Eyes’, although not as deep.

Dean wasn’t really listening, because Blue Eyes appeared to be having difficulty tearing his eyes away from Dean, and Dean was mesmerized. 

“Before we travel to Heaven, please let me know if you have any requirements. Weapons, documents, personnel,” Inias continued eagerly.

Actually… there was still a great deal of hammering going on in Dean’s skull, and maybe if he got a few minutes of shut eye he would feel a whole lot better. “Um, Coca-Cola? Do you have one of those?” Dean asked. Might as well accept their hospitality, and… maybe it would get the awful taste out of his mouth too.

Blue Eyes made a gesture to Inias, who reached into a compartment on the inside of the car door. He pulled out a can of Coke and handed it to the woman, who then passed it to Dean. 

Dean couldn’t quite put his finger on it, but their movements were as strange as their voices. Silted… mechanical. 

“Sir, I am Samandriel,” the other previously silent guy then spoke up. “I would like to explain the history between our kind and the god Loki in greater detail.”

Dean could feel sleep pulling at the edges of his consciousness, and this wasn’t helping him to focus on what Samandriel was saying. He turned his head to the side, and found that the woman was looking at him curiously.

“Hey, how you doing?” he asked sleepily.

Seemingly unaware that Dean was barely paying attention, Samandriel began reciting his ‘history’ anyway. “Before Christianity became widespread throughout the Scandinavian region, the Vikings worshipped the Norse gods. Our religions coexisted happily, and our god and those of the Norse religion were peaceful.”

“What’s your name?” Dean asked the woman, as he stifled a yawn.

The look she gave him in return was awkward and a little embarrassed, but she didn’t say a word.

“Doesn’t she talk?” Dean asked Samandriel.

“She was attacked by Loki, and her grace is not yet strong enough for her to talk again,” Samandriel explained.

_Method actors,_ Dean thought disparagingly, turning back to her as she opened her mouth and made the strangest noise; one that sounded like static, and made his ears ring.

_What the hell? How did she even do that? They must have a device hidden somewhere._ “Okie dokie,” Dean said, opening the soda. One thing was for sure; he couldn’t fault their attention to detail.

Dean’s head was hurting even more now after that ear-splitting noise, and he was still tired as hell. If he could just catch a few z’s, he might be able to give a better performance for these nerds when they got to the gig. Plus… some serious flirting with Blue Eyes over there. Resting his head back against the seat, he said, “You know, guys, I had a late night with a coven of witches, so I'm gonna just shut my eyes for a bit. Go on. You know I'm listening to everything you say, okay?” He took a sip of his Coke, before leaning backwards and getting comfortable. 

Dean could hear Samandriel’s voice droning on as he continued relating his ‘fascinating’ tale about Loki. As he began to drift off to thoughts of blue eyes and pink lips, Dean once again found himself impressed at these guys’ dedication to the roles they were playing. If he wasn’t feeling so shitty he might even have told them so.

“When Christianity became the dominant religion in the region, Loki was furious. He believed that he should still be worshipped as their god, and when he found that the other gods didn’t agree with him he became vengeful. The gods were not interested in Loki’s petty and spiteful games, so he turned his attention to the angels. He killed some of us, banished some to alternate universes, and bent others to his will. We fought each other in vicious battles. The foolishness! And it was in this time of dissension that Loki…”

The voice of the ‘angel’ explaining the carefully constructed backstory was the last thing Dean heard, before sleep took him under. 

___________

  
  


Suddenly aware of a voice close to his ear, and being shaken gently on the shoulder, Dean opened his eyes. He was lying on a couch, and... ugh, he’d drooled on it - very classy. The woman from the limo was speaking to him,

“Sir. Sir? I'm sorry to wake you, sir, but your presence is requested in the Hunter Hub.”

Dean slowly sat up, and tried to clear the fog from his mind. How had they managed to get him from the limo to the couch without him waking up? Man, he must have been in a deep sleep.

He shakily got to his feet, and the woman led him through a stark white hallway - why was everything so damn bright - but they didn’t get very far before Dean felt the need to stop for a moment. He felt unbelievably disoriented for some reason, and he had a feeling it wasn’t just the hangover. He still had his can of Coke, and he clutched it to himself, almost as if it might help ground him.

“Sir, Loki has moved the deadline,” the woman said urgently, getting him moving once more with a hand on his elbow. “We are about to receive a message from him. He wants an answer to his proposal. I understand-“

Dean staggered slightly, and interrupted her spiel. He had no desire to hear the story they’d concocted yet again. “I got most of this in the car. Loki is the bad guy, right?” Dean set off through the hallways towards the Hunter Hub, with his female companion trying to catch up with him.

“Oh, yes, sir. He's a very bad man indeed. He has tortured some of us, sent others to alternate worlds, never to be seen again,” she explained as she turned him around and got him walking once more in the right direction. Godammit, this place was huge.

The woman continued with her frankly tedious explanation, “Captured our females for his own demented purposes-“

“Mm hmmm,” Dean said distractedly, sipping his Coke and trying to keep up with the woman, both literally and figuratively. “Okay, I got the picture. Do you have angel radios, or do you want me to wing this?”

“I’m not sure I understand,” she said, staring at him with a look of confusion.

As they rounded the corner, they bumped into Blue Eyes, and one of the others... Samandriel? 

Staring at him with barely disguised lust, Blue Eyes said, “Dean, welcome to Heaven.”

Dean smiled. “Good to see ya’,” he said, warmly. Right now he was feeling pretty conflicted, and he continued walking as the ‘angels’ stayed where they were. These cosplayers were way more obsessive than the usual ones he encountered, and he was beginning to wonder if getting to spend all this time with Blue Eyes was worth all the weirdness. It wasn’t as if he could even get the guy alone, for fuck’s sake.

“Would you like to don your uniform?” Blue Eyes interrupted his thoughts, and gestured for Dean to accompany him, to... wherever they kept their costumes, Dean guessed. Things were looking up… this was the perfect excuse to get him alone.

Unfortunately, he was supposed to be doing another gig with the rest of the crew very soon, and if he was late again, Sam was going to kick his ass. 

With the greatest reluctance, Dean said, “No, you know what? I'd like to skip that. I got this gig in Van Nuys in about...” he checked his watch. _Shit!_ It was even sooner than he thought. “A quarter of an hour. Is that all right?” He asked, not knowing if he would be able to resist if the guy were to insist on him dressing the part.

“As you wish.” Blue Eyes looked disappointed, but nodded in understanding.

_Thank god,_ Dean thought as a guy he was pretty sure he hadn’t seen before, dressed the same as the other cosplayers, approached Blue Eyes. He looked distressed. “Sir, it’s Loki. He’s here.”

_Wow, they’re acting as if this is actually real,_ Dean thought, as he stared at them in astonishment, shaking his head. If it wasn’t for Blue Eyes, he would be hightailing it out of there.

They carried on walking, and the lingering feeling of disorientation turned to one of relief as they finally reached their destination. The room he was in looked strangely like Robert Salvage’s house, with the multiple phone lines and hundreds of books on lore, creatures and spells. There were yet more cosplayers waiting for him there, and a replica of the battered old sofa in Robert’s living room. A woman standing next to the sofa gestured for him to sit, and he did so, unsure if he should be impressed or disturbed at the lengths these people had gone to to create such a startlingly realistic set. 

“Oh, this is great. You know, usually it's just cardboard walls in a garage,” he divulged, sitting back and getting comfortable.

His head was still pounding though. Dean huffed in frustration, but before he could ask for painkillers, Samandriel interrupted his thoughts, 

“Sir, we apologize for operating in low-power mode, but with the severe reduction in our numbers, we find it very difficult to keep Heaven powered.”

_Whatever._ “You know what I could use?” Dean said, not really caring about Samandriel’s explanation, “a couple of Advil. He shot Samandriel a hopeful look.

Before Samandriel could do anything about Dean’s request, another one of the angels, who was holding a book of spells and magic, interrupted, exclaiming, “We'll have communication in five seconds, sir. Should we wait?”

Dean crossed his arms and chuckled. “Get your harps out.”

The guy gave him a look of pain - or was it sadness - and Dean’s laughter didn’t seem to be helping the situation any.

“We don’t have harps, Dean.” Blue Eyes had been hovering nearby, and he narrowed his eyes at Dean, and tilted his head. 

Well, that joke went down like a lead balloon. They really were taking this way too seriously. 

“Sorry to break up the mood here,” he said, waving his hand in a way he hoped conveyed his apology. “We’ll wait for Loki to join us, my friend.”

The guy with the book then spoke into his angel radio in some kind of strange language. It was probably some made up language, _like Klingon,_ Dean thought, both impressed and slightly weirded out by it. These people really had thought of everything.

Obviously deciding that Dean’s attempt at humor was nothing to get worked up over, Blue Eyes suddenly moved closer; so close that the back of his hand brushed the back of Dean’s as it lay on the arm of the sofa. Dean felt something like an electrical spark as they made contact, and he had never wished an entire room full of people would disappear before.

Blue Eyes looked down at Dean, just as he lifted his gaze up to meet his, and his intentions towards Dean were written all over his face. Dean was about to ask if he wanted to ditch the others and get out of there, when they heard a fierce and commanding voice suddenly reverberating around the room. “I see fear. That is expected.”

The face of ‘Loki’ appeared like an apparition in front of them, in a cloud of green smoke - like the Wizard of Oz, but with better special effects - and Dean was struck by how good his makeup was; his face was blue and looked like there were real icicles growing out of his skin, and his eyes were red. He was seriously fugly… Tom Hiddleston he most certainly was not. Dean peered at the ‘god’ over the top of his sunglasses, and gave him a smile. 

“Ah, they bring a new leader,” Loki boomed, and Samandriel cowered in fear.

Dean was astonished at how realistic the whole scenario was, and how everyone played their part. He pointed at Loki’s image, and said to Samandriel, “It’s good,” hoping he was conveying to the man how impressed he was.

“Here are my demands,” Loki continued.

“Scary. I mean, you know, it looks,” Dean added, speaking over Loki, hardly registering what was being said.

Loki carried on, despite Dean’s obvious lack of interest. “And if I do not hear what I like.”

“Looks real.” Man, Dean was still so tired. He tried to stifle a yawn, but it forced its way out anyway, and he sipped at his Coke so as to not appear too rude in front of his hosts.

Loki was still talking, and this time Dean clearly heard what he said, “Blood and pain as you can not imagine.” 

_Yikes, this is a bit much,_ Dean thought.

Samandriel grimaced, cringing at Loki’s threatening words. If there was an award for most effort put into a cosplayers gig, they would win it hands down. No contest.

“First,” boomed Loki.

Dean’s mouth was still feeling kind of disgusting after last night, and distracted by this, he put his now empty can down, muttering “backwash” in Samandriel’s direction.

Loki’s performance had become a rant now. “I require the Book of the Damned.”

Dean looked at his watch and groaned. This was really dragging now; time to wrap things up, and hopefully make some plans with Blue Eyes. Making a gesture with his hands for Loki to get to the point, he hoped everyone else there would take the hint.

“Second, I will require a witch-” Loki said, unfaltering in his delivery.

Right... enough was enough. “Okie dokie, okie dokie,” Dean interrupted, noticing a look of sheer terror crossing Samandriel’s face.

Dean clapped his hands, decisively. “Let’s blast him with a spell that’ll slow him down, and one that will block him from hitting us with a counter-spell. And while you're at it, why don't you toss that at them, Killer?”

Dean threw the empty can at the guy with the book - who shot him a look that said ’what the fuck’ - while Blue Eyes had apparently been staring at Dean’s lips so much, he'd caught a case of contagious yawning.

For his part, Samandriel didn’t comment at all on what was unfolding, but his expression was growing ever more petrified.

Dean was so late for the thing in Van Nuys, and, as interested as he was in Blue Eyes, he was more than ready to leave this show. Getting to his feet, and willing Blue Eyes to follow him, Dean addressed him directly, “That should take care of old frosty face, shouldn't it?” Then he ducked out of the room, and set off along the hallway in search of the way out. Where the hell was it?

He didn't get very far before Blue Eyes caught up to him. He would have been happier if Samandriel hadn't been with him, though. _Dammit._

“Dean, where are you going?” Blue Eyes inquired, obviously not wanting him to leave. 

“Home,” Dean answered decisively. He desperately needed to freshen up and grab a change of clothes. He shot Blue Eyes a wink, hoping he would get the hint to come with him… or at the very least, meet him there.

“You mean earth?”

Dean had no idea what game Blue Eyes was playing, but he went with it, lightly caressing him on the arm. “Yeah, earth. I need to get back to earth.”

Setting off again, Dean continued searching through the seemingly endless hallways, with the ‘angels’ accompanying him on his quest. 

“But the negotiations. You fired on him,” Blue Eyes said, as if Dean had done something wrong.

Dean was starting to feel like he was getting mixed signals. Maybe Blue Eyes wasn't interested in him after all, which was disappointing. “Yeah, yeah. Long live... what was your place called?” he said, half-heartedly 

“Heaven.”

“Yeah, yeah. Long live Heaven.” Dean placed his hand on Blue Eyes' shoulder, and gave a gentle squeeze. He pointed in front of him. “This way?”

Blue Eyes pointed off to the left, and Dean changed direction, following him and Samandriel.

“What if Loki survives?” Blue Eyes asked suddenly.

It was lucky Dean found him attractive, or he would probably lose it right now. This charade had dragged on too long, and all he wanted was to leave, with the guy's number in his pocket. 

“Oh, I doubt it. I threw enough spells at him,” Dean replied.

“He is a very powerful god,” Blue Eyes said, fearfully.

_Again, what the hell?_

They were now in a large but empty room, and Dean tripped over a step he hadn’t spotted on the floor. Thankfully, Blue Eyes put his hands out to help steady him, his hands holding on to him a few moments longer than necessary. 

“If you got any more problems with the guy, just, you know, give me a call,” Dean said, really hoping he would hear from Blue Eyes before the day was out. 

He found himself being maneuvered on to the step on the floor, which it actually turned out, was a kind of podium. 

_Oh_... _seriously?_ _What now?_ Was he ever actually going home, or was this an elaborate, but super confusing ploy to keep him there? Maybe they really had kidnapped him.

Dean stood still on the podium, wondering what he was supposed to do now, and ever so slightly fearing for his safety, when Blue Eyes handed him a device just like the ones they used to use on the show. “Angel radio,” he explained, as if Dean didn’t already know what it was. Shame it wasn't real, and he wouldn't be able to use it to contact the guy directly. 

“A what? Hey,” he switched it on and chuckled at the flashing lights. _Nice prop._

“How can we thank you, Dean? You... you have saved us,” Blue Eyes said, pulling Dean into a hug. 

Dean wasn’t generally a hugger, but _fuck, yeah…_ this was nice. Dean trailed his fingers up and down Blue Eyes' bicep, as he practically melted into him. He could feel the other guy's breath on his neck, and his resolve to leave began to weaken by the second.

But, no… Sam and the others would never forgive him. _Sonovabitch._

Dean let go of Blue Eyes as slowly as possible, with a sigh, and a grudging, “Yeah... Uh, huh. Okay, you guys have been great. You really have.”

Dean examined the angel radio model more closely, and found it extremely well put together. “This thing is real-looking,” he complimented as Blue Eyes and Samandriel headed for the door. 

“Yoo-hoo. Hello?” he said into the device, laughing at his own silliness, and momentarily unaware that Blue Eyes and Samandriel had left the room. _Wait,_ they'd left him all alone, and Dean hadn't even got his number.

This was becoming increasingly bizarre, and now Dean really was worried that they were going to keep him prisoner in this room, and had lured him in there with a shiny toy. “Hey! Where’s my limo?” he shouted after them in frustration and fear. 

The room was plunged into darkness, and Dean fell silent as the hairs on the back of his neck stood up. Things had gone from somewhat entertaining, to irritating, to kind of terrifying.

A shimmering light appeared in front of him, growing and moving, and if Dean didn’t know better he could almost swear it looked like a portal. A real, actual portal. 

_Holy fucking shit_ ... _hold the fucking phone!_

Dean was in Heaven, for real? Those people he’d spent the day with were honest-to-god angels? Blue Eyes was an angel, and he seemed so otherworldly because that's exactly what he was! _Ohhh…_ did that mean he had wings? Dean really wanted to find out; he just hoped he would get to see him again. 

Even as he stepped into the portal, Dean still couldn’t quite believe it. Maybe he was having a brain aneurysm... and that was his last thought as he was engulfed in brightness, before he suddenly found himself trembling violently in the middle of a children’s playground. 

The limo was parked by the curb, waiting… and thank fuck, because Dean was ready to get the hell out of there and go home. 

Back to normalcy, even though nothing would ever really be normal again.


	3. Episode Three

Sam’s hope the previous day, that Dean’s meltdown might just be a blip, seemed to be proving overly optimistic. He, Crowley, Bobby, Jo, and even Ash had turned up for this store opening as arranged, but Dean was a no-show... again.

_Dammit._ They, at least, would be professional, and carry on without him.

“Take it from us, we've dealt with our fair share of witchcraft and demon deals,” Sam announced to the small group of fans.

Bobby continued the pre-rehearsed speech with his own line, “So we can tell when a deal is too good to be true, like the value here, at...”

“Tech Value Electronics Superstore!” Jo said, with fake enthusiasm.

Crowley was supposed to say his line next, but he remained silent, scowling unhappily. The rest of the cast turned to look at him, in hopeful anticipation, before Sam prompted him with a nudge.

With obvious reluctance, Crowley said the detested line. “Even when I lose, I win, with these great deals.”

With a feeling of relief, Sam picked up the giant demon knife replica, and cut the ribbon, as a handful of balloons were released into the air. In the background he could hear Ash saying, 

“All right! Yeah, let's hear it for the badass hunters of _Not Natural_.”

~~~

Dean was so-o-o late, but he couldn’t wait to tell Sammy and the others about Heaven and the angels. They weren’t going to believe it. Well... hopefully they would believe it... they knew he wasn’t crazy. 

Heading towards the store he was supposed to be at like, an hour ago, he could hear some excited chatter ahead of him; it sounded like some fans, who were discussing the Book of the Damned. He didn’t listen too hard though, as he was focused on nothing but the angel radio in his hand. Could he actually contact Blue Eyes with this? Not looking where he was going, he was about to see if the thing worked when he collided with something hard; it was a person, who fell to the ground with a thud, along with Dean’s angel radio.

Oh... it was that nerd he’d lost it with at the convention, and he had a group of friends with him. 

“Ed!” One of his group - a young boy - shouted.

‘Ed’ flailed on the ground, addressing Dean, “Dean! My apologies.”

Dean wasn’t paying attention to the guy; he was scrabbling around on the ground, trying to get his angel radio back. The guy had also dropped his, and they looked identical. 

_Shit._

Ed picked himself up off the floor, and handed Dean his radio back. 

“You know, evidently we had a little miscommunication regarding the... hunt? You didn't show up?” Ed said, his words trailing off, as Dean walked away without a single word.

The voice of one Ed’s friends rang out behind him, saying, “he did it again.”

Dean was too busy for this distraction though, and he ran off to find the rest of the cast. They were going to be stoked when he told them his story.

He spotted them sitting at a table under an awning signing autographs - Bobby eating his way through a bag of chips at the same time - and he pushed through the meagre crowd to get to them. 

He found himself face to face with a very angry looking Crowley, who immediately launched into a verbal attack. “Do you know what time it is? Why do you even bother to show up at all?”

Undeterred, Dean pushed the people on either side of him out of the way, and leaned on the table to speak to Crowley and the others at eye level. “No, no, no, no. Guys, I was there.” He said, enthusiastically, pointing to the sky. “I was up there. Remember yesterday at the convention, those people dressed like angels? They _were_ angels. They were Seraphs or Canaries. I can't really remember 'cause I was kind of hungover. But what they built was extraordinary. It looked just like Bobby’s house. I got to fight this god named Loki, and I kicked his ass!”

The reaction from his brother and friends was underwhelming; in fact, they were staring at him as if he’d completely lost his mind.

“I know what you're thinking,” Dean persisted. “But I can prove it. They gave me this.” He took out his angel radio, showing it to them triumphantly, as proof of his sincerity.

All giving him looks of irritation, Crowley, Sam, Bobby, and Jo then took out their inferior fake radios, and held them up, as if to say ‘and’?

Dean felt a pang of disappointment that they didn’t believe him, but he could show them that his one actually worked. “No, no, no, no, no. But can you talk to the angels in Heaven on those?”

Holding it to his mouth, he spoke into it. “Hey there, this is Dean. Over.”

Crowley slammed his radio down on the table in disgust, growling, “Oh, for god’s sake.”

“That's it. It's time to go!” Jo said angrily, as she jumped to her feet.

Dean’s angel radio didn’t appear to be working, and after a few moments of trying to communicate, he belatedly realized that it must belong to the nerd he bumped into. _Fuck!_ “This isn't mine. That kid. Where's that kid?” he said, futilely.

As if sent to save him, and definitively prove that he was telling the truth, three of the angels - two males he didn’t recognize, plus the female he’d interacted with - suddenly appeared and approached Dean. 

“Begging your pardon, sir, we come with news. Loki lives,” the female angel informed him.

Disregarding her message as irrelevant, Dean spoke over her, saying to his fellow cast members, “Listen.”

“He was able, upon your departure, to make an escape,” the female continued.

“Tell them,” Dean encouraged her, gesturing to the rest of the cast, who all looked extremely unimpressed.

“However, he has contacted us...” she said.

“Loki.” Dean pointed at her, feeling that this evidence was enough to show that he absolutely wasn’t making any of this up.

The female angel carried on, despite Dean’s interruptions. “And wishes to negotiate a surrender. We humbly implore you to come and negotiate the terms.”

Dean nodded and smiled as she spoke, holding out his arms in an expansive gesture. This was great... they’d have to believe him now.

Finally, what she was saying registered with Dean, and he responded excitedly, “They want me back? You want me back?”

He was going to see Blue Eyes again!

Turning to his crew, he implored, “Is this amazing? They want me back, and I want you guys to go with me, please. Don't even think about it. Let's go.”

He leaned on the table again, and smiled at them all, watching as Crowley grabbed a piece of paper and scribbled on it. 

“Yes!” Dean exclaimed happily as Crowley got up from his chair. 

This happiness was short-lived, however, when Crowley stormed off, without another word, the others following behind him. “You're going? Crowley, this is not... I'm not kidding here. This isn't some kind of prank! I'm not kidding. Guys, guys, listen. Come on.”

How in hell had this gone so wrong?

Sam was the last to leave, and Dean grabbed him by the elbow. “Sam. Sammy,” he implored. “Stop, come here. You know me. I'm a lot of things, but am I crazy?”

Sam stared into his eyes, saying. “You know, it's one thing to treat us this way. It's another thing to do it to your fans.” 

Before Dean could respond, Sam walked away, rushing to catch up with Crowley, Bobby, and Jo.

“She’s not a fan,” Dean shouted after them. “She’s a canary.”

_Sonovabitch_!

~~~

As Sam waited behind Bobby to get into the minivan they’d been escorted in, he saw the fury on Crowley and Jo’s faces. Dean had really done it now, and although a part of him had wanted to stay and reason with his brother, a bigger part of him knew he had to walk away until Dean was sober and thinking clearly. 

Bobby was the only person who appeared unbothered by Dean’s outburst, and he took his seat quietly. Jo, however, was clearly about to explode.

“You should've just let me hit him,” she raged, leaving Sam feeling thankful that things hadn’t gotten that bad.

“Boy, I didn’t know you could get that loaded,” Sam said, climbing aboard and taking his seat.

Clearly having been mulling the situation over, Bobby said, “I think we should've just taken the gig, I mean, who knows the next time he'll ask us.”

Crowley scoffed at the notion, saying, “Bobby, he was drunk. Do you really think he was talking about a job?”

Silence descended then, and they all glanced at each other with increasingly incredulous expressions, before as one, they jumped out of the minivan to go find Dean. Sam wondered if they were all thinking the same thing; that Dean might not have been drunk and deluded at all.

_Only one way to find out._

Rushing through the store warehouse with the others hot on his heels, Sam spotted Ash talking to a female employee.

“But you live with your mother,” she said dismissively, as Sam stopped to talk to him.

“Did Dean come through here?” he asked.

“Yeah, he's out there.” Ash replied, pointing ahead of them, then following behind with a “Hey, guys,” as if that would slow them down.

The group hurried through the warehouse, and out to the other side of the building, finding the female angel from earlier standing in what appeared to be a children’s playground.

As she gave them some kind of salute, Sam declared, “We’re coming too.”

“All of you wish to go to Heaven?” The female angel asked, looking very pleased at receiving this news.

“Yes, we wish to go to Heaven. You see, we work together, or not at all.” Sam confirmed, indicating his friends… and Ash.

“Wonderful. Dean had me wait here in case you changed your mind,” the female angel declared happily, directing them to stand in the sand box.

Sam noticed that Bobby had stopped just inside the building to investigate the snack machine. _Seriously?_ How could he be so focused on food at a time like this? 

The female angel lifted her radio to her mouth, and spoke into it. “Castiel, sending four more humans...”

Holding up his hand to get her attention, Ash said, “Me too.”

“Five for immediate collection,” she corrected.

The sand beneath them began shifting and swirling, and Sam suddenly worried that this had been a terrible decision. “Guys. Guys?” he said, wondering if it was too late for them to change their minds.

“I look forward to meeting you all in person when you arrive in Heaven,” the female angel said as she smiled sweetly.

“Oh my god,” Sam said, as they were swallowed by a blinding white light.

The last thing he registered was Bobby calling out to them. “Anybody got any change?”

The stupid old coot was going to get left behind.

After being sucked into what felt like a vacuum, and swirled around until he didn’t even know which way was up, Sam and his companions came out into a bright white room, shaking uncontrollably. There was no sign of Bobby - he’d only gone and missed this experience - but from the other side of the closed door, he could hear sounds of movement and... something else, and it appeared to be getting closer. 

The door opened to reveal three figures; huge, with wings and multiple faces, and radiating a brightness that was almost too much to look at. When they opened their mouths, the noise they emitted was a kind of static, and it felt like it was shattering his eardrums.

As the figures approached them, they suddenly shrunk and took on the form of human males, and thankfully the dreadful noise ceased.

“Our most sincere apologies. We forgot about our human vessels,” One of them said as Dean practically skipped into the room, smiling from ear to ear. 

“You guys came,” he gushed. “Who wants the grand tour?”

The stunned silence that had fallen was suddenly broken by an ear-splitting scream from Ash.

That actually summed up Sam’s feelings on the day’s proceedings pretty nicely.

~~~

The moment Dean had arrived back in Heaven, he was greeted by Blue Eyes. Sadly, they still didn’t manage to get any time alone, but Dean had discovered a few new things about his hosts.

He’d learned that the angels believed they were real hunters, and knew of them through watching the show. They didn’t realize it was a show, or even what a show was, and he didn’t have the heart or inclination to correct them. What harm could it do if he didn’t tell them the truth? 

Dean also now knew that the female angel’s name was Hannah, and Blue Eyes was Castiel.

“What do they call you?” Dean had asked, leaning into him, and brushing his lips over his ear as he spoke.

“Castiel,” he’d replied with a shudder, his voice impossibly deeper.

_Holy fuck!_ Dean was about to engage Castiel in another epic staring contest, when an angel had come to tell them that the rest of the cast had changed their minds and their imminent arrival in Heaven was due.

Dean was overjoyed at this news. He’d been devastated at their refusal to believe his story, so the fact that they’d come around was too awesome for words. Briefly wondering what had brought about this change of heart, he rushed to the welcome room to greet them.

_Did it really matter why they’d decided to come?_

His cast mates didn’t look too happy; in fact their expressions were a mixture of shock and fear, and each one of them was standing stock still. They’d be fine though - they just needed to adjust to their surroundings. However, when Ash let out that scream after Dean had offered them the tour, he had to accept that maybe they would need a little period of adjustment to get used to this most unusual of situations.

Looking between them, Dean asked, “Anybody else?”

With a blinding flash of light as the portal opened once more, Bobby was transported into the room. Dean had no idea why he hadn’t travelled with the others, but at least he seemed to be completely untroubled, unlike the rest of them. “That was a hell of a thing,” he said, stepping down off the podium the new arrivals were all standing on. He stopped to turn and look at the others, who still hadn’t moved. “What’s wrong with them?”

That was a good question.

“I dunno,” Dean said, grabbing Bobby’s arm and leading him through the door into the hallway, hoping the others would join them.

While Dean and Bobby walked ahead with ease, the rest of the crew were clearly still disoriented. Crowley, in particular, was seriously struggling, prompting Dean to stop and hand his friend a stick of gum. 

“Just keep shaking it off. It gets better.” Dean said, noting how different the reactions of Sam, Crowley, and Jo were from Bobby’s, who was gazing around at their surroundings in wonder.

“Hey, try some gum. It helps,” Dean said to Crowley, who took it, but didn’t seem inclined to actually put it in his mouth. He seemed to be putting all his concentration into just staying upright.

“Where are we?” Jo asked.

“Heaven,” Dean replied proudly, as Jo promptly fell over, and lay on the floor looking disoriented.

Deciding to leave her where she was to catch her breath, Dean continued on. Gesturing ahead, he said, “There's a celestial map in the core room. I'll show you, come on.”

At that moment, he spotted Castiel coming towards them, along with Hannah and Samandriel, and a couple of angels he didn’t recognize. He resisted the urge to rush over to the guy, opting instead to admire him from afar.

With smiles a mile wide, they all saluted Dean and his crew, and Castiel held out his arms in greeting. “Welcome my friends.”

Dean turned back and saw that Crowley was still having enormous trouble walking. Surely his equilibrium would be restored soon? “This is Castiel,” he explained, “he’s their leader.”

“I am Castiel,” he confirmed. “On behalf of us all, I wish to thank you, from the deepest place in our hearts.”

Jo had by now picked herself off the floor, and wasn’t looking too well. Dean decided to ignore her predicament, and continue with the introductions. 

Dean gestured between them, saying, “Castiel, this is my band of hunters.”

The ‘hunters’ were clearly not as pleased with the proceedings as Dean’s new angel friends were; other than Bobby, they were all staring open-mouthed in shock.

Either oblivious to their lingering unease, or hoping that a friendly demeanor would ease the situation, Castiel stepped forward to meet the rest of the cast. 

Crowley was the nearest to Castiel, and Dean held his breath as they approached each other. This was the encounter Dean had been worried about the most; for starters, as far as the angels knew, Crowley was actually a demon, _plus..._ they were supposed to be able to see a demon’s true face. Surely Crowley having a normal human face would be a dead giveaway. 

“Fergus MacLeod,” Castiel said somewhat hesitantly. “We hope we will all be able to work together, despite you being a demon, and us being angels.

“Don’t worry. I won’t set my hellhound on you,” Crowley quipped, completely deadpan.

Of course, the angels didn’t understand that it was a joke, and they exchanged nervous glances, until Dean let out a loud laugh. Slapping Crowley on the shoulder and squeezing a little harder than necessary, he wiped the non-existent tears from his eyes with his other hand. “He’s such a joker... You’re such a joker, aren’t you, Fergus? He doesn’t even have a hellhound.”

Castiel gazed at Dean, and he must have seen something in his expression that convinced him of Crowley’s trustworthiness. Dean was still perplexed about why the angels hadn’t caught on to Crowley not having a demon face, but he certainly wasn’t going to question it. 

A warm smile spread across Castiel’s face, and he extended his hand to Crowley, before turning to Sam. “Samuel Wesson,” he said, as the name was repeated in awed whispers by the other angels.

“Young Beth, you’re alive?” Castiel said to Jo in astonishment, taking her hand as he bent forward, and kissed it sweetly, her name echoing through the hallway, like a ripple flowing outwards.

“She came back,” Dean said, hoping that explanation would suffice. After all, people died and came back to life on the show all the time.

Castiel seemed to be happy with that, and he smiled knowingly before turning to Bobby. “Robert Salvage,” he said to the only other member of the cast who looked like he wanted to be there. Bobby nodded in greeting, as his name reverberated with the repetition of his name.

Finally, Castiel seemed to notice Ash, who was leaning against the wall. Castiel stared at him, obviously waiting for a name. 

“A… Ash,” he said hesitantly.

As one, the angels all chanted, “Ash.”

“You... know us?” Sam asked incredulously.

The angels laughed in unison, as if that was the most ridiculous question they’d ever heard. Castiel explained, “I don't believe there is an angel here who does not.”

Dean had already been through all of this, and he watched his ‘crew’ with a knowing smile, while they processed this information.

“For years since we first received transmission of your historical documents, we have studied every facet of your hunts and strategies,” Castiel continued, as Crowley and Sam stared at each other in amazement... or was it horror?

“You’ve been watching the show?” Jo asked.

Interrupting before any damage was done, Dean corrected her, “Beth? Historical documents.” He gave her a pointed look for good measure.

“Historical documents f-from out here?” Jo enquired.

“Yes. The past one hundred years, our society had fallen into disarray. Our goals, our values had become scattered, but since the transmission, we have modeled every aspect of our society from your example, and it has saved us,” Castiel explained further.

Dean gave his crew an impressed smirk, quirking his head to the side, while Ash looked pretty sick. _Poor guy_.

“Your courage, and teamwork, and friendship through adversity… In fact, all you see around you has been taken from the lessons garnered from the historical documents,” Castiel finished.

They had carried on walking while they’d been talking, and were now standing in the area that had been transformed to resemble Robert’s house.

Still looking as confused as ever, Sam queried, “Is this Sioux Falls?”

“No, this is Heaven.” Dean couldn’t wait to show them what else was here. “Would you like to see their vehicles?”

The nod he got from Bobby was all the encouragement he needed, and he led them to the door of a large elevator. As they climbed aboard, and waited for it to move, Dean made sure to stand as close to Castiel as possible. Castiel smiled at Dean, and touched him on the shoulder when the elevator moved. Dean looked at Castiel's hand, then up to his face, and found the angel gazing back at him with a soft smile.

Dean was about to place his hand on top of Castiel’s, but Crowley chose that moment to accept that they were in actual Heaven,

“Oh, my god. It’s real.”

Castiel removed his hand, and Dean shrugged and smiled resignedly at him. The elevator stopped, and through its glass wall they were able to view the huge fleet of 1967 Chevy Impalas that seemed to go on for miles.

_That’s what I’m talking about,_ Dean thought, listening to the gasps of wonder from his crew at the sight in front of them.

The elevator moved again, taking them to a lower level, and this time they stepped off. Following Castiel into a large room, they were shown what appeared to be a golden staff in the center, which was periodically emanating electrical sparks. 

“The Divinity Den,” Castiel explained. “The hand of god, of course. And as we continue,” he said, leading them through yet another hallway, “the medical quarters are to the left. We’ve gone to some trouble creating a cure to counteract the bite of a werewolf.”

Dean was suddenly confronted with a sea of concerned faces, as Crowley pulled him to one side, and he, Sam and Jo crowded in on him. 

“Dean, what have you got us into?” Crowley asked.

“What the hell is going on?” Jo added.

Continuing with the barrage of questions, Sam demanded to know, “What are we doing here?”

_So many damn questions._

Bobby weighed in then, with a typically gruff and sarcastic, “You guys are breaking my heart. Could we please just get on with it?” 

“We're just here to negotiate Loki's surrender. It's no big deal,” Dean explained. It really wasn’t a big deal, and he couldn’t understand why they were giving him so much shit about it.

Castiel re-emerged from the medical quarters then, imparting more knowledge, “And the human vessel fabrication chamber is coming along nicely.”

Sam’s eyes widened, as he said, “No big deal? Are you crazy? We have to get out of here.”

Dean couldn’t believe this. He didn’t understand why they weren’t embracing this experience as much as he was. True, none of them had the same feelings as he did towards Castiel, but still… “Come on, guys,” he pleaded.

“Dean, we’re actors, not hunters,” Sam countered.

Well, yeah, that was true, but this was a fucking adventure, and he wanted them along for the ride. “You guys want to go home?” he asked. “You say the word, we'll go home. Pay our bills, feed our fish, fall asleep in front of the TV, and miss out on all this.”

Gesturing to everything around them for emphasis, he continued, “Sam, Come on. Do you guys want to do that? Anybody? C'mon, think about it. Look at where we are. We're in Heaven. Crowley, this is the role of a lifetime. You guys want to leave?”

Sadly, the expressions on the faces of Sam, Crowley, and Jo told him that they were unmoved. In contrast, Ash had a sappy grin on his face, as if this was the best thing that had ever happened to him… which it almost certainly was.

Castiel and his entourage of angels interrupted his musings as they reappeared from wherever they’d been. Dean couldn’t disguise how pleased he was to see the angel again, and he smiled stupidly at him. 

“We’ve enjoyed preparing many of your esoteric dishes,” Castiel said, with enthusiasm. “Your Elvis burger is a current favorite of the adventurous.”

_Well, that could be interesting._

They followed him once more, stopping outside a long room, filled with rows of little tables, and a small group of angels, who were watching the proceedings with wonder. As the angels saluted the ‘hunters’, Dean became aware that he wasn’t the only human who was enamoured with one of their celestial hosts; Jo and Hannah were definitely making heart eyes at each other.

_Awesome._

“The main garrison,” Castiel explained, as Dean wondered how many more of them would fall for one of the angels. Just as long as none of them set their sights on Castiel… 

With Sam and Crowley glaring at him, and Castiel shooting him a radiant smile, Dean walked inside the barracks to bask in the other angels’ reverence. Directing them to stand “at ease,” he turned back to the crew with a feeling of triumph. 

“It’s like throwing gasoline on a flame,” he heard Crowley say.

_Rude._ It wasn’t Dean’s fault that they worshipped him, was it? After all, he was only giving them what they wanted.

Ash turned to Crowley and gave him a dopey grin.

“What?” Crowley snapped, backing away slightly

“I'm just jazzed about being on the show, man,” Ash replied.

_Ohhh…_ he still thought this was a set, didn’t he?

Dean started to walk back over to his colleagues, but Sam and Crowley moved away, shooting him looks of incredulity, and shaking their heads sadly. They still weren’t getting it, were they?

Dean had more important things on his mind than their pissy attitudes anyway; he was still trying to find a way to get Castiel on his own. In the meantime, he would just have to make do with heavy flirting.

Rounding a corner, Dean saw that they were in the Hunter Hub, with the decor and contents reminiscent of Robert’s living room.

“If you would all take your positions,” Castiel said, indicating the table containing books of lore.

Dean crossed the room to take his seat, turning to the rest of the cast with a, “Guys?”

After a brief hesitation, there was a collective, “Oh,” as they realized what was required of them, and joined Dean at the table.

“Oh, my! Look, these thingies,” Bobby exclaimed at the sight of the collection of phones. “I remember I had it all worked out. This one is for the FBI, this is for CIA...”

Dean stared down at the enormous book of lore in front of him, when Castiel approached him. 

Placing a hand on Dean’s arm, he asked, “Dean, some of the angels have requested to be present at this historic event.”

Looking up, Dean found it wasn’t easy to concentrate on what Castiel was saying when he was gazing at him like that.

_Focus._

“Sure, bring ’em in,” Dean said. _What the hell..._ why not?

Castiel smiled and made a peculiar sound, and a handful of angels came through to the Hunter Hub. 

Bobby laughed as he turned to Castiel, saying, “No pressure, huh? I'm glad I ain't in charge.”

His expression soon changed to one of incredulity, however, when Dean leaned toward him, saying, “Robert, answer the phones.”

As if some kind of cosmic phone operator had heard him, one phone started ringing, then another, until they were practically deafened from the noise.

“Excuse me?” Bobby asked.

“They designed those lines after watching you,” Dean said, nodding his head to indicate the angels. He really hoped they didn’t fuck this up and give away that they weren’t really hunters; he didn’t want Castiel to find out that they were deceiving him, plus he was really enjoying this experience.

With panic in his voice, Bobby replied, “Right, right. Okay. Right. Right. Answer the phones.”

Ash had come to stand behind Bobby, and pointed to one of the phones, saying impatiently, “Okay, you got to answer that one. Answer that one first.”

Bobby glared at him, and said with irritation, “Would you sit your ass down? Sit! Move! You want to run this thing? Idjit.”

_Dammit!_ This wasn’t going well at all. Bobby really didn’t look like he knew what he was doing, and Dean was almost ready to jump out of his chair and start answering the phones himself.

Thankfully, Bobby picked one of them up and spoke into it. It took him a few moments to realize that he was supposed to be using his FBI voice, and Dean could see the rest of the cast cringing at Bobby’s mistake as much as he was. There were only a couple of minor mistakes before he got the hang of things though, and once all the phones had stopped ringing, he sat back breathing a sigh of relief.

Dean was extremely curious to know who was on the other end of the line for each call. He’d assumed it was some angels in another room, trying to make the whole experience feel more realistic, but from Bobby’s reactions each time, the authenticity was borderline creepy. It was almost as if monsters and the hunter network were real, and had a hotline to the angels, but that couldn’t be right, could it? _Nah,_ Dean shook his head, dismissing such thoughts.

“So get this,” said Sam, and the assembled angels broke out in applause, to Dean’s surprise... and the rest of the crew, from their bemused facial expressions.

_So far so good._


	4. Episode Four

Questioning why they weren’t dealing with Loki immediately, Dean was informed that they weren’t due to meet him for another four hours, so they had no choice but to spend the next couple of hours pretending to be doing some mundane - no, tedious - research. The definitely-not-real case apparently involved restless spirits, and the angels watched enraptured as they worked. Once they were done, Dean and the rest of the crew had been led to yet another room to eat. Dean had been served a dish of steak, potatoes and vegetables, while it appeared the others had been given a variety of different foods. 

The angels were seated around one table, while the humans were at another. Dean wondered if it was coincidence, good fortune, or deliberate that he was sitting directly opposite Castiel. Regardless of which of these was the correct answer, he made the most of the opportunity to admire the view.

“How are you enjoying your steak, Dean?” Castiel asked, staring intently at him as he waited for a reply.

It had to have been one of the most delicious things Dean had ever eaten, but he had to stop himself from saying, “it’s tasty, but I would rather taste your mouth.” If they  _ ever _ got two minutes alone, maybe he would get to say that… or just man up and kiss him. He sighed inwardly, and swallowed another mouthful before answering, “I'm really enjoying it. This is like corn-fed Iowa beef.”

Samandriel laughed pleasantly, and said, “Yes, we researched food preferences based on the regional menu of each of your birthplaces, then used cook books, plus a little magic to recreate each dish.”

“I don't care how you did it, it tastes great,” Dean said, noting that Crowley didn’t appear to be enjoying his food as much as Dean was.

Dean couldn’t see exactly what was on his spoon, but he could see it wriggling, and Crowley looked quite disgusted.

“Are you enjoying your Hades larvae, Fergus?” Samandriel asked.

_ Ewww _ ...  _ gross, _ thought Dean, digging into his own food with enthusiasm.

Crowley’s answer was a sarcastic, “Just like Mother used to make.” Then, as if to demonstrate just how unpleasant his meal was, one of the creatures jumped off of his spoon.

Everyone else appeared to be eating quite contentedly, and Dean was glad of that, anyway.

“So, tell me, Castiel,” Crowley started, pushing his bowl to one side. “This Loki that we're going to meet, what does he want?”

“He heard about the Book of the Damned,” Castiel replied, grimacing.

“What does it contain?” Jo joined in.

Castiel shook his head. “We don't know.”

“We were hoping you could enlighten us,” Samandriel continued.

“The Book of the Damned,” Dean said, stalling. He’d hoped to avoid this subject, seeing as he had absolutely no idea of how to decipher it. “We took it from an evil witch on a hunt. It’s written in a language we don’t recognize.”

“Why don't you ask a friendly witch to translate it?” Jo asked, earning a shout of alarm from Samandriel.

Samandriel shook his head vigorously. “We believe that its pages contain spells of such power that, if they fell into the wrong hands, could be used to change life as we know it. Dark forces would rule the earth, forever.”

_ Well damn, that settles that then. _

In a moment of self-preservation, Dean asked, “Has Loki ever seen any of the historical documents?” It would be a good thing if the deranged god didn’t find out who they were... or where they were from.

“No, thank God, he has not,” Castiel admitted with relief evident in his voice. 

Dean filled his mouth with another piece of steak, wondering how much of that relief was because Castiel didn’t want him to be in danger. “So how does he know about the Book of the Damned?”

Castiel looked deeply distressed as he told them, “Our former leader was not strong.”

“Former leader?” Dean asked. This was the first time he was hearing anything about a previous leader.

Looking guilty as hell, Castiel apologized, “I am sorry I kept this from you. Originally, one of our own tried to lead. You deserve to be shown his memories.”

Memories? What the hell was Castiel talking about?

Castiel got to his feet, walked over to Dean, and placed his fingers on Dean’s forehead. Dean just had time to register that the other angels in the room were repeating this action with his friends, before images that weren’t his own started flashing through his mind.

The first recognizable person he saw was Loki, face twisted in anger. “Is that all? After three days of this, you still require incentive?”

He was directing his ire at an angel in restraints, and Dean flinched in horror as Loki made a small cut on his captive’s neck with an angel blade. The angel screamed in anguish as his grace began to bleed out through the wound.

_ Oh, snap, _ Dean thought.  _ The special effects guys on the show really nailed what grace looks like.  _

“I have told you all I know. If you have any mercy within you, please, let me die,” the angel pleaded.

“When I have drained you of all your grace, you shall die,” Loki said with glee.

Castiel removed his fingers from Dean’s forehead, and the expression of devastation on his face was matched only by the look of fear on the faces of Sam, Crowley, and the rest of the cast.

With barely a moment’s hesitation, they vacated their seats almost as one, and set off at a fast pace, clearly searching for the way out.

_ Fuck it. _

Desperate to stop them from leaving, Dean ran after them. 

“Hey, guys, come on, hold on a minute. You just can't leave. Give me some time to think,” he said to Crowley, hoping to appeal to his adventurous side.

Crowley stopped walking momentarily, and in the most sardonic tone, said, “Think. He wants to  _ think.” _

“No, Dean. That's a wrap,” Jo snapped, just as vehemently. “There's nothing to think about!”

They all picked up the pace again, still looking to escape the place, while Dean found himself running to keep up. He hoped that a way to keep them there would present itself; they were a team, and needed to stick together.

Ash stopped him, and he looked utterly terrified. “I'm not even supposed to be here. I'm not even a regular character. I'm expendable. I'm the guy in the episode who dies before the opening credits. I gotta get out of here.” 

Before Dean could respond, Castiel and a handful of other angels caught up to them then, looking extremely confused by their guests’ sudden departure. 

“Dean! Dean?” Castiel asked.

Dean didn’t know what to say. He wanted the others to stay, but showing them those memories had been a bad move on Castiel’s part. He’d tried appealing to their better nature though, and he’d failed, but at least he wasn’t going anywhere… he would stay right here, with Castiel.

With a sigh, he said, “We’ve gotta prepare the portals for my gang’s departure.”

Castiel stepped in front of them, saying, “But begging your pardon, Dean, we can't risk opening any portals at the moment. It will reduce our power to protect them, and Loki will surely destroy any one leaving Heaven.”

“Loki?” Sam asked, his face a mask of shock.

“Yes, Dean. He's communicating with us now.” Castiel said with urgency. “Your presence is required in the Hunter Hub.”

Dean opened his mouth to protest, but Castiel and the other angels were already walking away, leading them in the direction of the room in question. With a growing sense of unease, Dean followed, as the rest of the cast - apart from Bobby, who was apparently being led elsewhere - reluctantly fell into step behind him. 

Weren’t they supposed to be there for Loki’s surrender? What happened to that?

“There's nobody here,” Sam remarked as they entered the now eerily deserted replica of Robert’s house once more.

Castiel shook his head. “While our kind are able to conjure some magic, our attempts to counter that of Loki’s have been disastrous.”

“Can’t you use your grace against him?” Dean asked, hopefully.

“A few have tried, but it’s simply not powerful enough,” Castiel replied, sadly, and Dean had a horrible feeling that those angels who’d tried had died.

“Castiel,” Dean said, ignoring the fact that Ash was trying to get his attention. Evidently he was panicking yet again, and Dean didn’t have the time or the inclination to tell him to get a grip. He wanted to talk to the angel, because as far as Dean was concerned, Castiel had clearly done his best against a devastating foe, and he obviously needed to be told that.

Castiel’s eyes widened in fear, as he pointed to a spot in the room where a cloud of green smoke had appeared. “Loki’s here.”

The god’s angry voice suddenly rang out, shattering the relative quiet. “We meet again.”

Sitting himself down on the sofa, Dean tried to appear as calm as possible. “Hello, Loki. How you doin’?” He said to the huge blue face looming through the smoke, as Ash kept trying to get Dean's attention.

“Better than my advisor.” Loki said, revealing to them what Dean presumed was the advisor’s head, on a stick.

Out of the corner of his eye, Dean saw the rest of the crew recoiling in horror.

_ Oh my fucking god. Don’t show him you’re scared. _

“He failed to stop your spells as quickly as I'd hoped on our last encounter,” Loki explained, discarding the head as if it was nothing.

Dean had a sudden realization that the throwaway spell suggestions he’d made last time he was here were actually used on Loki.  _ Fuck!  _

“Yeah, well, you know, I'd like to say I'm real sorry about what happened before. The whole thing was just a misunderstanding.” Dean said as nonchalantly as he could manage under the circumstances, hoping that smurf features over there wouldn’t hold it against him.

Loki held out his hand in a threatening gesture, and shouted menacingly, “Deliver the book to me, or I will destroy Heaven!”

Dean got to his feet again, displaying a confidence he didn’t actually feel. “You know, we'd like to do that, but frankly, Loki… sir, we don't know what it can do, or even where it is.”

“You have ten seconds!” Loki insisted.

“I don't... Ten seconds? I don't... There...” Dean stuttered as he looked to Crowley for help. Crowley shrugged; unfortunately, he appeared to be fresh out of ideas too.

“You know, okay. Fuck it, I give up,” Dean continued, “It's yours. You can have it. You have to give me a minute to put it in a box for you, okay?” Maybe he could stall Loki long enough to formulate an actual plan.

Dean gestured at Loki with his finger, then turned to Sam and dragged it across his throat to indicate that he should do something about the smoke, to stop Loki from being able to see them. For now he was going to hit the god with everything they had. Shame they didn’t have the Colt handy; shame the colt wasn’t real.

In response, Sam copied Dean’s gesture to him, before Dean turned his attention to Crowley. He grabbed him by the arm, and issued a reassuring, “Don't panic. I've dealt with this guy before.” 

He could see Ash cowering behind Castiel, but this was no time to hide. Marching over to the guy, he continued his rant against Loki. “He's as stupid as he is ugly.”

Taking hold of Ash by the arm, he steered him towards the table of books. “Come here.”

“Dean,” Sam said from the other side of the room, his voice striking a note of panic.

“Not now, Sam,” Dean snapped.  _ Seriously? _

Not to be deterred, Sam tried again. “No!”

Dean ignored his brother’s attempt at interrupting him, and sat Ash down. “Sit, sit, sit. We're gonna find every spell we can to stop him, all right?” 

“Dean,” Sam said once more, even louder.

_ Christ! _ What the hell was Sam’s problem? 

“Not now, Sam!” Dean practically shouted, before turning back to Ash. “Look for spells that will stop a god. Okay?”

“Okay,” Ash said, obviously petrified.

_ We’ll be able to stop frosty-face,  _ Dean thought as he rejoined Sam on the other side of the room. Straightening himself out in readiness, he said, “Alright, Sam, get Loki back.”

“Well, I'm trying to tell you, he  _ is _ back.” Sam gave him a pointed look.

“Perhaps I'm not as stupid as I am ugly… Dean!” Loki’s voice growled from the still-present cloud of smoke.

He heard all that?  _ Oh crap! _ Dean huffed a laugh, and glared at Sam. “I gave you the ‘kill’ gesture,” he said, demonstrating it again repeatedly, for good measure.

“Yeah. No, you gave me the, ‘we're dead,’ signal,” Sam said. “I was agreeing with you. Like I know how to get rid of… that.” He pointed to where Loki was watching them, and Dean realized he was right; he’d expected too much from Sam.

He could see Crowley holding his head in his hands in dismay, and Dean knew exactly how he felt.  _ This really couldn’t be going any worse, could it? _

Suddenly, the floor beneath them began to shake, and the air filled with more smoke, in puffs of red and green. 

“Hey, you guys. They’ve hit us with a spell,” Ash stated the obvious as he jumped out of his chair and hid under the table.

A menacing laugh from Loki sounded throughout the room. “A little present for you, Dean.”

There was a crash as the lights flickered and the ground trembled, and Dean suddenly wished they had all gone back to earth before things totally went to shit. 

“We gotta get out of here!” Dean shouted, pleading with Castiel. He wanted to get them all to safety… especially Castiel.

Castiel shook his head; there was no escape for the time being.

The lights dimmed even further, and Sam cried out, “Oh, no!”

“Oh, my God!” Jo agreed.

Dean had no idea what spells Loki was hitting them with, but there was no time to think about that now, as another series of loud crashes caused the lights to go out completely for a moment, and there was a violent shaking of the ground.

Evidently, Loki wasn’t remotely finished with the assault either; he turned away, and ordered someone Dean couldn’t see to, “Hit them again.”

The puffs of smoke, and the havoc the spells were wreaking, was like some kind of fucked up Harry Potter thing, where the magic was way more one sided.

Crowley had been diligently searching through another book, and he jumped to his feet, announcing, “I’ve found a protection spell.”

_ What an absolute genius. _

He, Sam and Jo scrambled to get the ingredients they needed, as more puffs of smoke - this time purple - caused one of the angels to sprout horns.

Crowley quickly placed the ingredients in a bowl and started the incantation, and within seconds the smoke - and thankfully the angel’s horns - disappeared. Dean turned to Castiel, who appeared shaken to the core.

“Are you okay?” Dean asked, putting his hand on the angel’s shoulder.

Before Castiel could answer, Bobby’s voice came through the angel radio. “Hi, guys. The spells Loki hit us with have damaged the Hand of God. If we can’t power Heaven back up, the angels will fall. Just FYI.”

Dean wouldn’t complain too loudly if Castiel ended up living on earth, but the thought of the angels falling was terrible. It was one thing for them to choose a life on earth - if that was even a possibility - and another entirely for them to lose their home because of a vengeful god.

Dean was looking for a way to respond when he became aware of someone moaning in pain. It was coming from Ash, underneath the table.

“Ash! You alright?”

“No, my arm is broken,” he cried out, as he was lifted carefully by the now hornless angel, and placed gently in a chair.

Ash whimpered and cowered away from the angel, who was reaching his hand out to touch Ash’s injury. It was obvious to Dean that the angel was trying to heal it with his grace, but from the way Ash was reacting, he clearly didn’t realize that.

“Don't touch it! Don't touch it!” Ash whined, looking petrified as the angel persisted, placing his hand on Ash’s arm.

The angel’s eyes flared as a blue light radiated out from his hand and wrapped itself around Ash’s broken bone. As the grace began to work and Ash’s injury healed, he finally stopped whining and stared up at the angel in wonder.

When the healing was finished, the blue light faded away and the angel stepped back, out of Ash’s personal space. Ash flexed his fingers and moved his arm gingerly, evidently not quite believing that the angel had managed to heal him so easily.

“Thanks, man,” Dean said, realizing that someone should thank the angel, and as Ash appeared to have been struck dumb, it should probably be him.

The angel smiled and gave a slight bow, before disappearing through the door.

Looking around him in an attempt to assess the situation, Dean was struck by the distress on the faces of everyone in the room. He felt a sudden and unfamiliar urge to reach out and comfort each and every one of them, and not just Castiel, who looked utterly distraught.

This thought was interrupted by Crowley, however, who suddenly jumped up from his chair and marched towards the door the angel had left by, with a look of grim determination on his face.

“Crowley, where are you going?” Sam shouted after him.

Crowley slowed down just enough to stop and shout back, “To see if there's a pub!”

_ Fuck! _ What a disaster.

___________

  
  


An hour or so later, Dean found himself in what looked like a conference room, with Sam, Crowley, Jo, and Ash. Castiel had brought them here, and Dean had tried to get him to stay, but with a great degree of sadness, he declined, saying,

“I have matters of great import to discuss.”

Filled with regret, Dean had watched him leave. He hoped he would return soon, but for now, he and the rest of the cast had important matters of their own to attend to. 

Ash seemed incapable of keeping still, and was anxiously and restlessly pacing the room, making Dean want to take him by the shoulders and tell him to calm down. Everyone else was seated around a long table, listening to the angel radio as Bobby recounted the damage the Hand of God had sustained.

Bobby sighed. "The Hand of God has fractured under stress."

_ Shit. _

“It's fractured,” Sam proclaimed.

“Can it be repaired?” Dean asked.

Seemingly without thinking, Sam repeated Dean’s question, “Bobby, can it be repaired?”

Bobby’s answer wasn’t what he wanted to hear. Following a muffled discussion in the background - probably with the angels he’d befriended - he informed them, “The damage to the Hand of God is irreparable. A new source of power must be secured.”

Turning to Dean, Sam stated, “So get this… we need another one.”

“You destroyed Heaven. You only bloody destroyed Heaven!” Crowley fumed in Dean’s direction, throwing his hands up in the air.

Crowley’s accusation was pretty unfair; it was true that Loki attacked because of Dean’s mistake, but he might have done that anyway. Maybe Dean could be the one to fix it though. 

“Bobby, is there a replacement Hand of God in Heaven?”

“Bobby, is there a replacement Hand of God in Heaven?” Sam inquired.

What the fuck was Sam doing? This was so damn frustrating, and Dean laid his head on the desk to stop himself from saying something he really shouldn’t.

“Nope. No reserve Hand of God in Heaven,” Bobby declared, after further discussion with the angels.

“No, we have no extra Hand of God in Heaven,” Sam repeated.

Crowley had obviously had enough of Sam repeating everything Bobby said, and hissed out, “You know, that is really getting annoying!”

“Look, I have one job on this lousy show. It's stupid, but I'm gonna do it, okay?” Sam glared at Crowley, and he shrank back a little in his chair. Everyone knew that when Sam was riled it was best not to cross him.

“Sure, no problem.” Crowley said with an eye roll.

Just then the door opened, and Castiel, Hannah, and Samandriel, entered the room, with a couple of other angels in tow. Dean jumped to his feet, with the intention of letting Castiel know how pleased he was to see him. Castiel, however, avoided making eye contact with him and said sadly, 

“A thousand apologies. We have failed you.”

Dean scoffed. Was Castiel serious? Dean and the cast had failed them, not the other way around. “How have you failed us?”

“We have seen you victorious in much more desperate situations,” Castiel elaborated. “The fault must lie with us, with the angels.”

Dean had to admit that it wasn’t often he felt guilt, but right now he was wracked with it. “No, Castiel, it’s not your fault. It's my fault. We screwed...”

“We are not the people you think we are,” Sam interrupted, gently.

With a smile that said he didn’t want to hear anything that would destroy the perception he had of his favorite humans, Castiel said, “I don't understand.”

Dean looked around the room in a silent plea for help, and he saw Sam doing the same. How in the hell were they going to explain this?

Crowley got to his feet and made his way over to the angels. “Haven’t you seen any TV shows from other universes? Any theater? Films?” He questioned.

Castiel looked like he might finally be getting it. “The historical documents of your culture,” he said, nodding. “Yes, in fact, we have begun to document our history from your example.”

_ Ah... no. He didn’t, in fact, get it at all. _

Sam smiled and raised his hands in a gesture that said ‘stop’, and tried again. “No, not historical documents. They're not all historical documents. I mean, surely you don't think that  _ Gilligan's Island  _ is a...”

He trailed off at the look of extreme distress on the faces of the angels, at the mention of the classic show.

“Those poor people,” Castiel lamented.

“Oh, brother,” Crowley said, walking back to his chair in frustration.

“We're screwed,” Ash conceded, succinctly echoing Dean’s thoughts on the matter. 

To his credit, Sam didn’t appear to be giving up just yet. “Is there no one in Heaven who behaves in a way that's contrary to reality?”

Castiel let out a sudden gasp in recognition. “You are speaking of...” 

He turned to Hannah, who whispered, “Deception.”

“Deception,” Castiel repeated.

“Lies,” Hannah added.

“Lies,” Castiel said, before turning back to Sam and Dean. “We have only recently become aware of this concept in our dealings with Loki. Often, Loki will say one thing and do another. Promise us mercy, but deliver destruction. It is a concept we are beginning to learn at some great cost.”

Dean was beginning to despair, and he shook his head and pinched the bridge of his nose to stop the headache he could feel building behind his eyes.  _ Godfuckingdammit. _

“But if you are saying that any of you could have traits in common with Loki...” Castiel said, looking pointedly at the other angels, before they all broke out in laughter.

For some reason known only to him, Ash joined in the laughter, while everyone else grimaced in discomfort.

Dean watched helplessly, with no clue how to resolve this situation. He wanted Castiel to understand, to stop blaming himself for Dean’s screw up, but… he liked Castiel a lot, and he couldn’t bear to think of his face when he finally realized that Dean had fooled him. This really wasn’t going to end well.

Suddenly, Bobby’s voice came through the radio again. “Hey, Dean, listen. We located a Hand of God in another dimension in the multiverse. And we might be able to get there if we can get enough power to open a rift. What do you think?”

Dean could see everyone looking at him hopefully, and maybe this was the chance he was looking for to redeem himself, and possibly get away with not revealing the truth too.

Dean stared at the angels, hoping they would agree that Bobby’s suggestion was a good one. “We’ll do that!” He nodded in their direction, enthusiastically.

Ash clapped his hands decisively, exclaiming, “Alright!”

They could hear Bobby talking again in the background, and this time he sounded much more positive. “That's right again. That's... Come on, group hug. Come on.”

  
Thank god for Bobby and his angel entourage.  _ Maybe things would actually work out okay. _


	5. Episode Five

Crowley still wasn’t sure how they had gotten dragged into this mess. One minute they were going about their usual business of conventions and opening third-rate stores, and the next they were in actual Heaven trying to help out actual angels. He was currently being led to the transportation room, by a frightfully nice and irritatingly friendly angel called Balthazar.

He had hoped for silence, but alas, that wasn’t to be.

“Mr. MacLeod,” Balthazar started. “I hope I am not breaching protocol, but I am so very humbled to stand in your presence. I have studied your deals extensively. Though I am an angel, I very much admire your philosophy; your demon code.”

_Really?_ _How bizarre._ Unlike his fellow actors, who had no idea that Crowley was a real demon who had stopped feeling the baddie vibe and had instead turned to acting, the angels must know what he really was. They would be able to see his true face, after all. 

Replying with the least amount of sarcasm possible, Crowley said, “Good, that's very nice.”

Balthazar stopped walking and turned to face him. “Even when I lose, Mr. MacLeod...”

_Oh, for fuck’s sake._

“Don't do that. I'm not kidding,” Crowley interrupted.

Balthazar looked like a kicked puppy. “I'm sorry, sir, I was only...”

“Just don't.”

Balthazar looked disappointed, but agreed anyway. “Yes, sir.”

They reached the hunter hub at the same time as the rest of the cast, and Crowley wasn’t surprised at all to see the way Dean was staring at Castiel, like he was some kind of delicious pie. Crowley wondered if he should warn the poor angel about Dean and his reputation.

Balthazar handed him a machine, saying, “Mr. MacLeod? Here is your EMF meter. I have programmed it to point you toward the location of the Hand of God. Good luck on your mission, sir.”

The thing looked pretty useful, but Crowley hated gushing, so he took it, muttering a simple, “Thanks.” 

He just hoped they would all return in one piece.

~~~

As the angels vacated the Hunter Hub, in readiness for the rift to the other dimension to open, Ash started to become more distressed.

“I changed my mind. I want to go back,” he said. 

Crowley didn’t seem to be feeling too sympathetic towards his fellow cast-mate, though, and he snapped, “After the fuss you made about getting left behind?”

“Yeah, but that's when I thought I was the character who gets saved at the last minute by the heroes. But now I'm thinking I'm the guy who gets killed by some monster, five minutes after we get to the alternate universe.”

“You're not gonna die there, Ash.” Dean’s sympathy was disappearing faster than Crowley’s, with all of Ash’s complaining.

“I'm not? Then what's my last name?” 

Dean racked his brain, trying to remember. Was there any point? Did he ever even know it? “It's... I don't know.”

“Nobody knows! Do you know why? Because my character isn't important enough for a last name. Because I'm gonna die five minutes in.” Ash’s distress wasn’t lessening at all; in fact, it appeared to be escalating. 

Thankfully, Sam jumped in before Dean completely lost it with the guy. He always did seem to know the right thing to say. 

“Ash, you have a last name.”

“Do I? Do I?” Ash yelled, as the rift opened and grew in front of them.

“Yes!” Sam shouted. 

Continuing with his pity party, Ash added, “For all you know, I'm just the unnamed character who gets killed at the start of the episode.”

Ash called out for his mom a few times before clinging to Sam as they stepped through the rift, and Dean really wished they’d brought Castiel instead of him. What was he going to do if they encountered any monsters? Make them lose the will to live with his endless fucking grumbling?

“Are we there yet?” Crowley joked unhelpfully.

Ash gripped Sam tighter and screamed, “Mommy!”

Dean noticed Sam pull away from Ash’s death grip, and he didn’t blame him. Would anyone care if they “accidentally” left the guy here?

They were all through the rift now, and Dean looked around with interest. It appeared to be very similar to earth, and he wondered how far those similarities went. Was there another Dean Winchester in this world? Another Sam?

“Here we go,” Sam said, running his hand through his ridiculous hair as he broke through Dean’s musings.

Crowley was peering intently at the EMF meter he’d been given, and Dean called out to him.

“Which way, Crowley?”

“This way!” Crowley stated, pointing forward and striding confidently in the direction he’d indicated, before stopping and going back the other way. “Wait. No. That way.”

They all followed him, travelling across a remarkably familiar looking landscape to the earth they’d left behind, and hoped to see again very soon,

Never one to miss an opportunity for ridicule - especially not where Crowley was concerned - Jo snickered. “You were holding it upside down.”

“Shut up,” Crowley hissed.

“You know, with the British accent and air of superiority, I actually thought you were smart for a second,” Jo retorted.

Crowley stopped and glared at her. “You think you could do better, _Beth?”_

“Enough with that Beth stuff,” Jo said, clearly not pleased with Crowley calling her by her character’s name.

“We're screwed. We're so screwed,” Ash grumbled, and Dean realized he needed to intervene to stop this constant fighting and complaining.

“Come on, come on, come on,” he urged. “If we want to finish this mission, we have to use some self-control.”

“Self-control?” Jo scoffed. “That's funny coming from a guy who slept with every barmaid and waitress on the show.”

“Did it ever occur to you, had you been more supportive, that we might have been able...” Dean started, about to point out that they could have had a thing if she’d been so inclined. He didn’t finish that thought, however, because he was interested in someone else now, plus they had stopped in front of a temple-like structure. It was huge and imposing, and although its appearance suggested it was long-abandoned, Dean couldn’t help marvelling at it.

“Wow. Must be some sort of place of worship,” Crowley remarked.

“Where are the worshippers?” Sam asked, looking around.

“Something bad happened here.” Ash fretted, nervously.

Jo rolled her eyes. “Will you relax?”

Dean couldn’t care less about what might have happened here in the past; they were here to collect the Hand of God, and that was all that mattered. Spotting a door, he said, “There it is. The way in. Let's go.”

Before they could move, however, a group of creatures emerged from a clump of trees nearby. They were humanoid, and at first glance they looked just like children. Their behavior was quite different, however; they weren’t playing or chatting like Dean would expect a group of kids to be, and there was something about their eyes… Actually, their stillness and silence gave them a pretty creepy vibe, so he urged the others to hide behind a boulder with him to observe them, as they gathered around a water fountain.

“Look at that. Would you look at that?” Bobby said, gazing at them in wonder. “They look like little children.”

Despite their childlike appearance, however, the more they watched them, the more unsettling Dean found them. There was something not quite right about them, and it seemed it wasn’t just him who felt it.

“I don't like this. I don't like this at all,” Ash said, clutching at the back of Sam’s jacket.

“They are so cute,” Jo exclaimed, with a sappy smile on her face.

“Sure, they're cute now, but in a second, they're gonna get mean. They're gonna get ugly somehow, then there's gonna be a million more of them,” Ash said, cringing.

“Look. There's a little hurt one.” Sam stood up and began to walk forward, forgetting that they were hiding, and about to alert the creatures to their presence. “Hi. Hi there.”

Ash leaped forward, grabbed him, and pulled him backwards. “Did you guys ever _watch_ the show?” 

Undeterred, Sam gestured towards the creatures, as a slightly smaller one joined them, dragging its leg. The others parted to let it pass, and Sam smiled. “See? They're gonna help the little hurt one.”

Maybe Sam was right; they did seem harmless. Dean had barely finished that thought, before the creatures’ appearance suddenly changed into something truly terrifying. Their eyes became hollow pits, and their mouths bloody o’s full of teeth, and Dean knew he had seen this somewhere before.

They jumped on their hurt comrade, and the scene that unfolded was straight out of one of their gorier episodes, which was fucking disturbing, as the poor hurt creature was ripped apart and devoured in front of their eyes. As he watched the childlike beings transform into horrific killers, Dean realized what it reminded him of; they closely resembled the changelings that had been so creepily portrayed in an episode of _Not Natural._ In fact, come to think of it, they were uncannily similar. _How weird._

Dean knew that they had to put this incident out of their minds, as they had a mission to complete. However, everyone but Dean was currently running away in a blind panic.

Ash cried out, “I'm so sick of being right!”

Sam turned to look at Dean. “Let's get out of here before one of those things kills Ash.”

Dean didn’t really want them to kill Ash, even though he was irritating as fuck. “Wait a minute! We're not going anywhere without a Hand of God,” he insisted, holding up his hands to get them to stop. “We need a plan. Bobby, I need a diversion to clear the area of those things. Then, Crowley and Sam and I will go get the Hand of God. Jo, get up on that ridge. If you see them come back, give me a signal, all right?”

“Why does this sound so familiar?” Sam asked.

Jo had a sudden look of realization. “ _All Hell Breaks Loose_ , season two, episode twenty one.”

“We're doing season two, episode twenty one?” Ash asked, in a panic.

“Whatever,” Jo huffed. “The one with the deserted town and the psychic powers.”

“Well, how the hell is Bobby supposed to produce psychic powers?” Sam questioned incredulously.

Ash looked like he was falling to pieces. “Are we doing season two, episode twenty one?”

Dean grabbed Ash by the shoulders and shook him more gently than he wanted to. “It's just a rough plan, Ash. What difference does it make if it's season two, episode twenty one or not?”

“'Cause I died in that episode,” Ash shouted hysterically.

Didn’t Ash realize that characters died and came back to life all the time? No time to explain that right now though, Dean thought, covering Ash’s mouth with his hand before he could attract the attention of those terrifying little monsters.

“Season _four,_ episode twenty one, right?” Bobby interjected, in an obvious attempt to distract Ash. “Season _four.”_

Crowley appeared to have reached breaking point, as he pointed at Dean and said to the others angrily, “This is ludicrous. Why are you listening to this fellow? May I remind you he's wearing a costume, not a uniform. He's no more equipped to lead us than this fellow.” He nodded at Ash. “No offense.”

_No offense_? He’d just managed to offend both of them with that outburst, and Dean was about to tear him a new one when Sam interrupted.

“Look, they're gone.” He gestured to where the creepy little monsters had been.

“Where'd they go? Back inside?” Ash asked as they all looked towards the now unoccupied space.

Sam shrugged. “I don't know.”

“Nobody was watching?” Crowley complained.

Sam shot him a serious bitchface, which Dean was certain summed up everyone’s feelings towards Crowley’s negativity. It was bad enough with Ash having a meltdown, without Crowley’s bad attitude as well. They were going to have to have a serious conversation when they returned home, but for now they had something more important to do.

“Alright, alright. Listen up,” he said, “here's the plan. Sam, Bobby, Crowley and I will go back and get the Hand of God. Ash, you set up a perimeter and Jo, you're lookout. You see anything at all, you give us a signal, alright?”

“What kind of signal?” Jo asked.

“Oh, for fuck’s sake. Any kind of signal,” Dean replied.

“Okay, I'll do my hands like this.” Jo said, cupping her hands to her mouth, and making a ‘cawing’ sound.

“What are you, an infant? Look, we have these,” Dean said, utterly exasperated, and holding up his angel radio to show her.

Looking extremely sheepish, Jo replied quietly, “That. Sorry.”

“Let's go,” Dean urged everyone, waiting as Jo and Ash went to find a good lookout point.

In order to distract the enemy, Dean decided to make his way back to the temple by rolling repeatedly on the ground. Of course Sam, Crowley and Bobby had to go ruining his carefully thought out plan by just walking normally, but if the little bastards attacked, he would surely be safer. 

“Does the rolling help actually?” Sam asked with disdain.

“It helps,” Dean said, standing up and dusting himself off. There wasn’t much point if he was the only one doing it, was there?

Sam gestured to him, grinning. “Where's your angel radio?”

Dean looked down and realized he’d lost it somewhere. Crap.

“It helps,” Crowley said to Sam in a mocking tone.

They could be as rude as they wanted; Dean knew what he was doing. He just needed to find his radio.

Once he’d found the elusive thing they continued walking, and they soon found themselves outside the temple once more. They went inside with a degree of caution, but thankfully, there was no sign at all of the creatures, so they could concentrate on finding the object they were looking for. With the help of Crowley’s EMF meter, it only took a matter of moments to locate it - it was a plain golden crown - and Dean picked up the wooden box it was kept in, hurrying back outside, ready to leave this place.

Overcome with a sense of camaraderie he hadn’t felt in a long time, he joked, “Family don’t end with blood.”

Obviously, Sam and Crowley weren’t feeling quite so comradely, as they both snapped back at him, “Oh, shut up.”

_Oh, well, can’t blame a guy for trying._

The quiet was disturbed by a sudden commotion, as Jo and Ash ran towards them from their vantage point, waving their arms. 

Jo was making a cawing sound, and shouting, “Dean! They're coming! There's thousands of them, Dean! Run! They're coming! They're everywhere! Dean, they're everywhere!”

Dean needed no explanation of who or what was ‘everywhere’. In fact, he could see hundreds of those creepy little changelings appearing from behind every rock, tree and building, and advancing towards them. “Come on, let's go!” 

“They're coming!” Jo shouted again.

The sheer numbers of their pursuers had Dean beginning to panic, and as he started to run towards the rift with Sam, Crowley and Bobby following hot on his heels, it felt like all hell was breaking loose. “Hurry!” he urged. 

Jo continued to shout, “They're everywhere! Come on! Oh, God! Oh, God!”

“Don't look back. Do not look back!” Dean hissed. They were almost at the rift now, and as long as they didn’t falter or get distracted, they should get through it just fine.

“Oh, God. We're not gonna make it!” Ash wailed, as Sam made an unintelligible sound of frustration.

“Oh, God! I knew it, I knew it! I knew this was gonna kill me!” Ash continued, as he and Jo caught up with the rest of them. Dean handed him the box, then grabbed him by the arm and pushed him through the rift.

“Go, go, go!” Dean ordered, as one by one they stepped through; back to safety.

Once everyone had gone through except Crowley and Dean, Crowley tried hanging back, making a great show of gesturing for Dean to go next.

“Go ahead,” he said.

Dean was not going to leave Crowley to go last; he was their leader, dammit, and he had to make sure everyone was safe before he left. “There's no time. Get in! Get in!”

“Come on,” Crowley said with a glare. “Oh, I've forgotten, you've got to be the hero, haven't you? Heaven forbid anybody else gets the spotlight! Oh, no! Dean Winchester… Of course, it's always about you, isn't it?”

_Seriously?_ Now was not the time for a pissing contest with Crowley. Practically feeling the changelings grabbing at him from behind, Dean swung with his fist and punched Crowley in the face, knocking him backwards through the rift, just before it fizzled away.

Dean was pulled back and carried away by more hands than he could count, before being laid out on the ground by his captors. They were leaning over him and speaking to each other, though he couldn’t understand a word. He understood the intent though, as everything went dark when one of them picked up a rock and hit him on the head.

___________

  
  


Dean seemed to be making a habit of waking up on the floor with his head feeling like he’d been hit with a rock. Only this time it wasn’t alcohol induced; he had actually been hit with a rock. And... something was licking him. 

He opened his eyes and saw a green tongue, which was attached to... something he hadn’t seen before. It had scaly green skin, wings, and red eyes, and if Dean wasn’t certain they didn’t exist, he could almost swear it was a dragon. He had no idea if it was friendly or not, but at least those vicious little changelings that attacked him had disappeared.

Dean slowly got to his feet, and yelled at the creature, hoping this would scare it off. Unfortunately, it wasn’t scared - instead it charged at him, so-o-o... not friendly then - and the yelling had made Dean’s head hurt even more. He put his hand to his temple, in the vain hope that this action would stop the pain, but of course, it didn’t. The dragon ran at him again and breathed fire - which thankfully missed him - and as it did so, he became aware of voices chanting from somewhere above him. Looking up, he saw a whole bunch of his attackers, standing on the edge of a cliff, jumping up and down and waving their arms in the air, as they repeated one word over and over; “Lupir. Lupir.”

Oh… so they’d given him to Lupir. _Great_.

~~~

When Sam and the rest of the cast - minus Dean, obviously - had arrived back in Heaven through the rift, they were greeted by Inias and Samandriel. Inias had taken the Hand of God straight to the Divinity Den, while Samandriel had hurriedly led them to a room they hadn’t seen before. Oddly, it looked exactly like one of those always gaudily decorated, dingy motels they frequently stayed in on the show. On the table were spell books, bowls containing different ingredients, and a small TV that looked like it was made in the 1950s.

It suddenly struck Sam that the angels didn’t have any idea that he and Dean were really brothers. The fact that they looked nothing like each other had been ideal when they’d auditioned for unrelated roles on the same TV show, and this had allowed them to get away with playing those characters for years. Without giving anything away, he really needed to find out if his brother was okay though; that those scary little creatures hadn’t seriously injured him, or god forbid, something worse. 

Switching his angel radio on, he shouted frantically into it, “Dean? Dean, can you hear me?”

For a few long moments, all Sam could hear through the radio was a crackling sound, and the longer it went on the more worried he became. “Dean,” he tried again, trying not to panic.

“Yeah, Sam, you got me,” Dean’s voice finally came through, loud and clear.

The sense of relief Sam felt at hearing Dean’s voice was momentarily overwhelming, and he leaned on the desk for a second to compose himself. “Thank God. Are you okay?”

“Yeah,” Dean said, not entirely convincingly. “As a matter of fact, I have Lupir staring me in the face right now.” 

Samandriel uttered an incantation over one of the bowls, and the previously blank TV screen came to life. On it they could see Dean, and he appeared to be fighting off a green, scaly creature that looked like a... _dragon?_ Dean had removed his jacket, and was flapping it ineffectually at the thing... Lupir.

“But you know what? I think I can take him,” Dean continued, as Lupir shot out a breath of fire, which singed his jacket.

There was no way Dean could take him.

_Ugh,_ watching Dean losing a fight against something so dangerous was just painful, and Sam couldn’t help the gasp of horror that came out of his mouth. “Dean, we're gonna open another rift and get you out of there.”

“Another rift?” Dean asked, sounding hopeful.

“Yes,” Sam replied, shooting a questioning look at Samandriel, who nodded in confirmation.

“Jo is going to open it,” Samandriel said, excitedly.

“Jo is?” Dean questioned. “She knows how to do the spell correctly, right?”

Jo looked very uncomfortable at the thought of performing magic to open rifts. “Right,” she said, even less convincingly than Dean had been when he insisted that he was okay.

Crowley hit her on the arm to try to shut her up, but it was too late. Dean had obviously heard the entire exchange. 

“Well, you know what? I think I'll take my chance with Lupir,” he said as Lupir knocked him to the ground, and set fire to his jacket.

Feeling a growing desperation as every second went by, Dean trapped with that fire-breathing monster, Sam tried hurrying them up. “We're getting you out right now. It's perfectly safe, isn't it, Samandriel?”

Samandriel grimaced. “We are missing the fruit from the tree of life, so we have had to find a substitute ingredient. But we are confident that in Beth’s capable hands it will be fine.”

“What did he say?” Dean asked.

_Yeah... what?_ Sam thought. He needed an explanation, right now. “Hold, please,” he said before pressing the mute button on his angel radio, and turning to Samandriel.

“The incantation and remaining ingredients are correct,” Samandriel started. “However, our attempts at executing spells when we don’t have everything required have not always achieved the desired outcome. But now that Beth is here, she can perform it. Her knowledge of spells is far superior to ours.”

Sam had to trust that Jo knew enough to do this successfully, because there was no time to question any of this. Dean needed them to hurry the fuck up.

Jo, however, was backing away, with a look of sheer panic on her face. “I mean, I can't. I can supervise...” she babbled.

Crowley switched on his angel radio then, and spoke directly to Dean. “Dean, we're gonna test it.”

“On what?” Dean asked.

“How about that dragon?” Bobby suggested, as Ash nodded in agreement.

“Hey, I'm doing all right with the dragon.” Dean jumped out of the way as it scorched a clump of grass beside him.

The evidence of how untrue Dean’s assertion was was unfolding right before Sam’s eyes. They had to do something, right now. “Please, Jo? And hurry,” he coaxed. His friend really couldn’t have picked a worse time to question her abilities. 

As Jo tentatively picked up the book and began to recite the words over the correct bowl, Samandriel squealed in excitement. Jo immediately stopped, and she, Sam and Crowley turned to Samandriel as one, to shoot him a look that said ’shut the fuck up’.

“I'm sorry,” Samandriel said, obviously still not getting that Jo needed quiet. “It's very exciting to watch you work. The execution of the spells is...” he squealed again and put his hand to his mouth, “much more art than science.”

Silently willing the excitable angel to not say anything more until his brother was safe, Sam ordered, “Stand back, Dean.”

Jo started the spell once more, and everyone in the room took in a breath at the sight of a rift opening on the other side of the room. On the screen, meanwhile, Dean executed a dramatic leap over Lupir, and landed with a thud on the ground on the other side of it. As he lay there with the thing advancing towards him, the rift opened in front of it, the creature running through it before it vanished.

Strangely though, it didn’t reappear through the rift they were looking at. 

_What the hell? Where was it?_

“Where’s it gone?” Bobby asked, as they all glanced at each other nervously.

“What? What was that?” Dean said into his angel radio.

Crowley switched on his radio and insisted that it was, “Nothing.”

“You haven’t lost it, have you?” Dean asked.

_Oh, dear god._ This wasn’t good. Adopting his most persuasive persona, Sam assured, “Oh, no. Everything's fine.”

“But the monster has disappeared,” Samandriel said, with altogether too much enthusiasm. 

Crowley slapped his hand over Samandriel’s mouth to stop him from saying anything further, and Jo glared at him. 

“Idjit,” Bobby growled. 

“I heard that. It disappeared?” Dean questioned.

Samandriel wriggled free of Crowley’s hand, to exclaim, “And we don’t know where it went.”

“Did I just hear that that creature disappeared and you don’t know where it went?” Dean asked, adding a “Hello?” When no one answered.

Well, damn, this was going very poorly. “Hold, please,” Sam said, muting the angel radio again, and looking to the others for assistance.

Before anyone could offer any help, however, Dean interrupted.

“Hey, wait a minute, guys. If the dragon is gone, why are they still yelling "Lupir"?”

Sam listened closely, and he could indeed hear those scary little creatures shouting “Lupir.”

“Samandriel, are you able to translate what they’re saying,” Bobby asked. 

Samandriel switched on his angel radio, and put it to his ear. “I believe the word translates as fang,” he informed them after a few moments.

“I don't think the dragon was Lupir,” Sam said, wondering what fresh hell Dean was going to face now. They didn’t have to wait long to find out, as a monster that somehow looked like a cross between a vampire and a werewolf came into view behind Dean. 

“What the hell’re you talking about?” Dean asked, turning to come face to face with the thing. “Oh, fuck.”

Dean stared at it for a second or two, before he suddenly took flight, and the atmosphere turned to chaos and panic.

“Open the rift!” Dean shouted, as Sam tried to get Jo to snap out of her stupor. 

“Come on, Jo,” Sam urged, watching in horror as the monster stalked after his brother.

“Come on, guys. Bring me back there!” Dean begged, attempting to hide behind a pile of rocks.

“Oh, no, not me.” Jo seemed to visibly shrink at the thought she might screw it up again “It won’t work without fruit from the tree of life.”

“Come on, we’re...” Sam started, giving Jo his best puppy dog eyes. “We’re counting on you to save him.”

“Am I the only one who saw that thing disappear? No, no, no. I'm not that person. I'm not Beth Roadhouse, I'm Jo Harvelle. I'm not even... Harvelle isn’t even my real name.” Jo was now an absolute mess, and she stepped backwards until she was pressed against the far wall.

Crowley attempted to take control of the situation, by taking up his radio, and declaring, “Jo’s no good, Dean. You're just gonna have to kill it.”

“Kill it? Well, I'm open to any suggestions,” Dean challenged, as the monster found his hiding place and clawed towards him, before Dean ran once again.

“Go for the eyes, like in season one, episode twenty two!” Bobby added, helpfully.

“I’m not going anywhere near its eyes, Bobby. Have you seen those fangs?” Dean huffed.

“Go for the mouth or the throat, its vulnerable spots!” Bobby continued.

“It's a werepire!” Dean shouted in frustration. “I don't have a machete to take this thing’s head off!”

Ash nudged Bobby out of the way, and offered a solution of his own. “I know! You construct a weapon. Look around you. Can you form some sort of rudimentary lathe?” 

Crowley snarled and tried to punch Ash in the arm, as Sam watched on helplessly. How the fuck were they going to get Dean out of there?

“A lathe? Get off the line, Ash!” Dean practically screamed, before appealing to Crowley for help. “Crowley, you're my advisor. Advise me!” 

“Well, you're just going to have to figure out what it wants. What is its motivation?” Crowley answered.

“It's a monster. It doesn't have motivation,” Dean replied incredulously, as it continued to chase him up a small hill.

“See, that's your problem, Dean,” Crowley proclaimed, with an air of superiority that made Sam want to hit him. “You were never serious about the craft.”

_Fucking hell_.

The werepire had managed to grab a hold of Dean, and was dragging him along the ground. He struggled uselessly, pleading, “Jo! Jo, can you hear me? Jo, are you there?”

“Kinda,” Jo said in such a timid voice, Sam was amazed Dean heard it.

“You can do it, Jo! It's up to you!” Dean called out.

Jo walked hesitantly back towards the table, but she didn’t appear to be any more confident than she had been before. “Oh, no, no, no. Dean, I'll just... I'll just mess it up.”

Thankfully, Dean clearly wasn’t ready to give up. “You did it for five years on the show! Do it now!”

Jo looked frozen with fear, as she said, “That was the show. I'm not a hunter!”

“Jo, you never forgot a line! You never missed a mark!” Dean countered.

“I can’t do it without the correct ingredients,” Jo whispered. “I don’t want to send Dean through the wrong rift.”

Sam was stumped. He understood Jo’s reluctance; after all, it wasn’t her fault that they hadn’t been able to get the fruit from the tree of life. But Dean was getting hammered out there, and needed bringing back before it was too late.

Just as he was about to offer to try performing the spell himself, the door opened and Hannah came into the room. She was carrying something in her hand, and Sam really hoped it was something useful.

“Fruit from the tree of life,” Hannah said, handing it to Jo and shooting her a dazzling smile. In that instant Jo’s demeanor changed completely; she smiled sweetly back at the angel and smoothed her hair with her hands, and they gazed at each other in a long, charged moment.

Meanwhile, Dean was still trying to avoid being eaten, while shouting frantically for help.

“Jo! Can you hear me? Jo? I don't want to die down here. Bring me back, Jo!”

Sam coughed to get Jo’s attention. He could see how enamored she and Hannah were with each other, but now was definitely not the time for them to get lost in each other’s eyes.

Jo smiled shyly, before replacing the inferior ingredient with the fruit from the tree of life, then picking up the book again. As she uttered the incantation - this time with confidence - a glowing rift opened in front of Dean. He immediately threw himself through it, and was suddenly there, in the room, with them, battered and bruised but not seriously injured.

_Yes!_ Sam thought. Thank god.

“Oh, wow,” Jo said, evidently not quite believing she’d been successful at saving Dean.

“Beth,” Samandriel whispered in awe.

“Yeah!” Jo shouted out in triumph, as Sam rushed over to hug his brother.

Dean laughed in relief, and hugged him back as he caught his breath.

Sam and Dean let go of each other, and Crowley approached them slowly, very obviously trying to hide a smile. Dean, on the other hand, was grinning from ear to ear.

“I see you managed to get your shirt off,” Crowley said as sarcastically as ever. This didn’t faze Dean, however; he was obviously done caring about such trivialities. He offered his hand in greeting, first to Crowley, then Jo.

Wearing a dopey expression, Jo declared, “I did it.” 

“Welcome back, Jo.” Dean glanced down at the torn, dirty shirt he was clutching in his hand, before pulling it back on. “Alright, did we get the Hand of God installed?”

Samandriel gestured in the direction of the Divinity Den. “Yes, we are back to full power.”

Dean approached him, and gently squeezed his shoulder. “Great! Everything working okay?”

“Yes,” Hannah assured him, just about managing to tear her gaze away from Jo’s.

Dean clapped his hands together, decisively. “Perfect! Well, gather some more ingredients, you could send us home, and you guys can get those missing angels back before supper.”

The smile that Sam had assumed was permanent, slipped from Samandriel’s face. “Oh, no, sir, we will not get them back.”

“Sure you will. Family, friends. Come on!” Dean insisted.

“We do not know where they are. We are all that is left.” Samandriel looked distraught.

Dean responded with a heartfelt, “I didn't know that.” Sam didn’t often see genuine emotion on Dean’s face, but it was all too clear now. 

“Sir, I have raised the Divinity Den,” Samandriel said, evidently not wanting to dwell on his lost comrades.

Dean brought the radio to his mouth. “Castiel, meet us in the Hunter Hub.” When there was no reply, he tried again, with a frantic desperation. “Castiel... Castiel! Balthazar!” Still nothing. “Why can't we reach them?” he asked Samandriel. 

The door opened, but it was not their friends Castiel and Balthazar that stepped through; instead, they were confronted with a larger than life and very angry-looking Loki, flanked by a group of what could only be described as henchmen. 

Instinctively taking a step backwards, at the same moment as the rest of the crew, Sam felt a knot beginning to form in the pit of his stomach. A rift would be good right about now, he thought, as Ash slumped to the floor in a faint.

  
 _Oh crap_ , out of the frying pan, into the fire.


	6. Episode Six

What the fuck had Loki done to Castiel? Surely Dean hadn’t fought for his life against, and been saved from at the last moment, those… things, only to have lost the angel before anything had even really got going between them. If they’d hurt Castiel, he would fucking kill him.

Held in an iron tight grip, he and the rest of the cast were being forcibly marched along a hallway towards the Hunter Hub by Loki’s... men? Followers? He struggled futilely against the asshat, but all he got in return for his efforts was a sock in the mouth.

_Sonovabitch._

As they reached their destination, Dean and his fellow cast members were pushed roughly through the door by their captors, and he fell to the floor in a heap. Trying to catch his breath for what felt like the thousandth time that day, he became aware of a commotion on the other side of the room. He looked over, and saw Castiel, bloodied and bruised, and tied to a chair.

_What the actual fuck?_

Castiel managed a relieved smile when he saw Dean. “Dean. Thank God you're alive.” Then, turning to his tormentor, he narrowed his eyes, and spat, “Now you will face justice, Loki.”

Loki loomed over the angel with an angel blade in his hand, and growled menacingly. “At every turn, you demonstrate the necessity for your extermination!”

“Leave him alone,” Dean pleaded as he used the back of his hand to wipe the blood from the corner of his mouth, hoping to appeal to Loki’s... well, not humanity.

If the wicked glint in his eye was any indicator, Loki was completely unmoved. Yet he still asked Dean, “You wish to save the life of this angel?” The last word uttered in disgust.

“Yeah. Yes.” Dean had to try, at least. He got back to his feet, and stood as steadily as he was able, given what he’d been through in the last couple of hours.

Dean was grabbed from either side by Loki’s douchebags and held firmly, as the god approached him, full of fury. “Then tell me, how do you decipher it, this Book of the Damned?”

Dean wasn’t a coward, but he couldn’t help flinching a little. “I don't know how to read it,” he replied, trying not to panic.

Clearly dissatisfied with Dean’s answer, Loki stomped back over towards Castiel, and touched the angel blade to his throat.

_Oh, shit._

“I said I don't know!” Dean shouted.

Loki ignored Dean’s protests, the hold Loki’s men had on him stopping him from moving, as the god mercilessly cut into Castiel’s neck with the blade, causing him to cry out in pain, a sliver of grace bleeding from the wound.

_Motherfucker!_ Dean wanted to kill Loki so badly; if he could only get close enough to get his hands on him. 

“Does it need a spell?” Loki demanded to know.

“I don't know,” Dean replied, trying to break free as Loki cut Castiel’s neck again.

“A code?” Loki asked again.

“I don't know!”

“Tell me!” The angel blade went deeper, as Castiel writhed in pain.

“I don't know!” Dean didn’t know how many times he had to tell the stupid blue asshole that he was clueless about how the Book of the Damned worked. 

Loki stormed back over to Dean, grabbed him by the face, and squeezed. His face only inches from Dean’s, he snarled, “Do you think I'm a fool? That Dean Smith does not know every supernatural item in his possession, and how it works?”

For a moment, there was a stalemate between the two of them as they glared at each other, then Loki let go of him and ordered, 

“Prepare a spell for the female.”

Chaotic scenes then ensued, as Jo was grabbed and pulled forward by more of Loki’s men, and Crowley, Bobby, and Ash were immobilized.

_Oh, no._ They were not going to fill Jo’s blood with leeches, causing her to shrivel away as she was eaten from the inside out… or something even worse. “No! Jo, no!” He hollered, as one of Loki’s men landed a punch to his abdomen, and he doubled over in pain.

She hissed at the man holding her, and struggled to break free. “You asshole! Let go of me!” The hold on her was too strong, however, and he started dragging her away.

Dean had hoped to avoid this, but he realized now that the only chance they had of survival was to tell Loki the truth about their identities; that they weren’t really hunters. He could only pray that Castiel would forgive him. “I'm not Dean Smith.”

Loki stopped, and turned to face Dean, shooting him a puzzled look. “What did you say?”

“I said, "I'm not Dean Smith,” Dean repeated, picking himself off the floor and rubbing his stomach. Man, that punch really hurt. “Leave them alone. There's no reason to hurt them. They don't know anything,” He said, attempting to appeal to Loki’s better nature (not that he’d seen any sign of it) on the angels’ behalf.

“Explain,” Loki demanded.

Turning to Samandriel, Dean said with a note of resignation, “Show him the historical documents.”

Samandriel did as Dean asked, going over to a screen on the far side of the room and turning it on. It came to life, and an episode of _Not Natural_ began to play, grabbing the attention of everyone in the room.

As Loki watched, understanding dawned on his face, and he started to laugh maniacally. “Wonderful. You have all done far greater damage than I ever could have. Bravo! Bravo. This is a moment I will treasure. Explain to him who you all really are.”

Sensing Dean’s hesitation, Loki grabbed him by the neck and marched him over to Castiel, who was smiling at the images on the screen.

“Tell him! Explain!” Loki thundered.

Looking into Castiel’s eyes, Dean took a deep breath, and swallowed a lump that had suddenly appeared in his throat. “Castiel, there's no such person as Dean Smith. My name is Dean Winchester. I am an actor. We're all actors.”

Castiel stared up at Dean, uncomprehending, and Dean desperately wished that he didn’t have to do this.

Impatiently, Loki barked, “He doesn't understand. Explain as you would a child.”

_Please forgive me, Castiel,_ Dean thought, and he thought he saw a flicker of recognition in those blue eyes. Had that filtered through to Castiel like some kind of prayer? 

“We pretended,” he started, willing Castiel not to hate him. “We lied.”

Castiel’s eyes brimmed with tears, and he turned his head away from Dean.

“Yes! You understand that, don't you, Castiel?” Loki said so smugly, that Dean had great difficulty stopping himself from decking the bastard right then and there. They were severely outnumbered though, so violence was a really bad idea at this time. Later, though...

“Castiel, I'm not a hunter. I...” Dean hesitated as he saw the hurt in the angel’s eyes. “There's no hunter network. We don’t even have a real car.” God, this was killing him.

“But there it is,” Castiel said, looking at the screen. 

“That’s only half a car, mounted on the back of a trailer.”

“But I can see you driving it.” Castiel nodded at the screen, which was showing Sam and Dean in the Chevy Impala, travelling down a creepy looking road.

“You've seen stuntmen; that’s why they’re only shown from a distance. Our demon knife is toughened plastic; it wouldn’t cut through jelly. And Sam... Sam doesn’t get WiFi wherever he goes. It's just a screensaver.” Dean looked over to his fellow cast members, and saw faces wracked with guilt. “It's all fake. Just like me.” The pain Dean felt telling Castiel this, was matched only by the hurt in Castiel’s eyes. He looked like he’d been dealt a more painful blow than if he’d found out that god was really a manipulative monster, making everyone suffer because he had nothing better to do.

“But why?” Castiel sobbed.

“It's difficult to explain,” Dean started, and wasn’t that the truth? He’d never had to explain the reason people enjoyed being entertained before. It wasn’t something he’d ever really considered. “On earth, we... er. We pretend to entertain and...” Dean ran his hand over his face. “Castiel, I am so sorry. God, I’m so sorry.”

Castiel turned his head away from Dean, and whimpered. 

“So now you know,” Loki crowed in triumph. Then, pointing to one of his men, he ordered, “Open rifts to other worlds. We’ll send these feathered fools so far away they’ll never find their way back.”

“The angels?” Castiel asked, pleading for mercy with his eyes.

Loki stared at Castiel, his expression a mixture of disdain and anger. “Yes, far too simple a punishment for them, isn't it? I want angel banishing sigils on the walls of every room and hallway, and make them permanent, to ensure none of them will ever return. And destroy the Hand of God.”

Dean knew he had to stop Loki somehow, and he lunged at him. “Son of a...” he shouted, but was punched again, and his knees buckled as he found himself on the floor once more.

“Kill these wretched humans,” Loki roared.

~~~

Loki, it seemed, was nowhere near done with Castiel yet; Dean and the other humans had been marched out of the room, to be dispatched elsewhere, whilst the sound of Castiel’s cries of pain echoed through the hallways. 

The lights in Heaven were flickering as the power fluctuated, and Dean wasn’t sure if this was because the Hand of God had been destroyed, or because so many angels had disappeared… or a combination of the two. What he did know was that the situation was critical, and if he was going to save them, he needed to act before it was too late. He especially had to get back to rescue Castiel.

Loki’s men had Dean, Sam, Crowley, Bobby, Jo, Hannah, and Ash cornered, and any minute now they were all going to be toast.

“Where's the happy ending, _Dean?”_ Crowley asked, the lack of sarcasm in his voice noticeable. “Family don’t end in blood?"

An idea for a way to escape suddenly came to Dean then; he just hoped Crowley would work out what he was doing. “Maybe it's about time you just backed off, you hellspawn,” he goaded. 

“Dean!” Sam admonished, as Crowley gave him a wounded look.

“You what?”

_C’mon, Crowley, please understand._

Dean continued with his verbal assault. “You're starting to act like you did in season five, episode ten, you scene-stealing hack.”

The expression Dean saw on Crowley‘s face told Dean that he’d realized what he was up to, and he warmed to his role beautifully. “Oh, right! Well, how does it feel, Dean? Was it worth it? You've murdered us all!”

“Shut up,” Dean retorted.

“Hundreds of angels to disappear, and us to die, just because of you!” Crowley was starting to get into his stride now, just a little bit too realistically.

“I told you to shut up!” Dean said, squaring up to his friend.

“Both of you, shut up,” Loki’s man growled, trying to pull them apart.

Crowley shoved Dean backwards. “Hundreds of angels to disappear, just because you want to play at being a hunter, you raving lunatic.”

“Then I'll see you in hell, won't I?” Dean attempted to throw a punch, and Crowley put his hands around Dean’s throat. As they started trading blows, he hoped Crowley could remember the fight choreography. 

Obviously not, as Crowley landed a particularly painful punch, then blocked Dean from the view of Loki’s men as he picked an angel blade off the floor.

Dean turned and stabbed the nearest of the bad guys with the blade, and this distraction allowed the rest of the cast to fight back too.

“Look out, Dean!” Crowley warned, as one of the men tried to attack from behind.

Dean knocked him down, and his weapon flew across the floor. “Get his blade! Get the blade!” He urged, as Crowley lunged forward and grabbed it.

Very quickly, almost all of Loki’s men were either dead, injured, or had run off; apparently, they were as bad at fighting as Stormtroopers. Jo and Hannah fought with exceptional enthusiasm, dispatching the last one together.

Relieved laughter filled the air at their victory, followed by a great deal of hugging and patting of backs.

Dean turned to Crowley. “You used to pull your punches.”

“Scene-stealing hack? Thank you.” Crowley replied, his sarcasm firmly back in place.

“Raving egomaniac?” Dean hadn’t forgotten what Crowley called him.

“Wonder where I got that from?” Crowley looked distinctly like he wanted to go another round, but Sam interrupted their squabble.

“Hey, guys. Look.” The power was fluctuating again.

Desperately hoping that this didn’t mean there were no angels left, Dean set off briskly down the hallway in the direction of the Hunter Hub, with the others running to keep up. 

_Please don’t let it be too late._

They stopped outside the Hunter Hub, waiting and listening. Dean poked his head around the corner, and observed Loki being approached by one of his men. “Lord, we must leave now.”

Loki looked down at Castiel still tied to the chair, and scoffed. Dean couldn’t see if the angel was still moving; he just needed Loki and that bunch of dicks to fuck off, and then he could go in and check.

Thankfully, it seemed that leaving before Heaven completely shut down was too important to Loki, and as Dean and his friends hid around the corner, the god and his men left the room to make their way back to whatever hole they’d crawled out of.

Dean ran back around the corner and into the room, then rushed over to Castiel. He was still tied to the chair and pretty beat up, and Dean hurriedly untied the ropes that bound him, apologizing profusely. “Castiel, I’m so sorry. Can you ever forgive me?”

Castiel didn’t answer Dean’s question; instead he looked like he was concentrating for a moment before his expression turned to one of concern. “I can’t heal all of my injuries.”

_Was there something wrong with his grace?_ Before Dean had a chance to ask, Castiel got to his feet shakily, imploring, “Help me save the other angels,” still not giving any indication of whether he was willing to forgive Dean or not.

Dean wanted to know where they stood, but he was busy formulating a plan; one that would hopefully save the angels, restore Heaven’s power, and maybe even rid them of Loki for good. They would need the samulet, the Book of the Damned and a way to read it, and there was no time to lose. “Alright, alright, listen up. This is what we gotta do. Castiel, you and I, we're gonna get the samulet. Sam and Bobby, you see if you can locate the Book of the Damned, and find a way to decipher it. Crowley, you take Ash. Look for every angel banishing sigil, and destroy them all.” 

As far as Dean remembered, the lore in the show stated it wasn’t possible to make the sigils permanent, as they needed fresh blood to work, but it seemed Loki didn’t realize that. However, it would still be for the best to eradicate them, just in case Dean had got that wrong.

“Okay.” Armed with an angel blade - both for protection, and to destroy the sigils - Crowley headed off to undertake his task, with Ash following closely behind.

“Wait, Dean. What about me?” Jo asked. “What do I do?”

There was actually a way Jo could help, Dean realized.

“I want you and Hannah to look for any rifts that have been opened recently. See if we can’t bring back some of the missing angels.”

“Rifts,” Jo repeated, already making her way out of the room, with Hannah in tow. If anyone could do this, it was Jo, especially after her heroics earlier.

Dean turned to Castiel. “Let’s go!” Finally, they would get to be alone, although he would have preferred vastly different circumstances.

Dean had recalled that in the show, they had been told by an angel that the samulet would burn hot in god’s presence. He figured that placing it near a Hand of God might have a similar effect, and if it worked as he hoped, the force generated would be enough to power up Heaven once more. Unfortunately, the thing was locked away in a safe in the basement of Robert’s house, along with the Colt, with a Raiders-type obstacle course protecting them.

This was going to take brains and brawn.

Armed with angel blades and an assortment of ingredients for counter spells, Dean and Castiel took an elevator down to the correct level. Castiel watched Dean silently the entire time, but Dean wasn’t sure if he wanted to know what the angel was thinking, so he kept quiet too, until they reached the floor they needed. 

“So we’re going to retrieve the samulet?” Castiel asked weakly, his face a blank mask.

“That's right.” Dean nodded, as they walked in the direction of where he hoped the vault was.

“Well, I hope you know how to get through the traps, Dean. I’m unaware of how to navigate them safely.” Castiel continued to give nothing away to Dean regarding his feelings, and Dean couldn’t really blame him.

“No, I don't, but I know someone who does.” Dean lifted his angel radio to his mouth, and pressed the call button to connect him with the one person he knew would be able to help.

~~~

Ed had found the last few days quite difficult. His disastrous encounter with Dean Winchester at the convention last weekend had made him question his devotion to _Not Natural_ and the shows’ stars, just a little bit. Of course he still loved them, and wanted to become a hunter of supernatural creatures too; he just needed to stop blurring the lines and accept that that world wasn’t actually real.

He was working on this; in fact, there was a _Not Natural_ convention not far from his home, and so far, he had stayed away. There were other things he could be doing with his life, after all.

There was a tap on his bedroom door, then his mom opened it and stepped into the room. “Ed, honey, the garbage.”

Ed knew he was supposed to be doing his chores, but he was trying to get his EMF meter to work, with absolutely no help from Dean Winchester. “Mother, I'm quite busy.”

His mom picked up the full laundry basket, and gave him a pointed look. “Come on, Ed, don't make me ask you again.”

“Just ten more minutes, okay, Ma? I promise.” Ed gave his mom a hopeful smile, then returned to his task as she left the room.

_Good old mom._

The door closed behind her, and a moment later, Ed heard an unfamiliar beeping noise. _What the hell? Did mom leave something behind?_ When the noise sounded again, he put down the EMF meter and tried to locate the source, opening his desk drawers and searching through them without success. Bewildered, he was about to get back to working on his meter once again, when he heard a disembodied voice that sounded distinctly like Dean Winchester, saying, “Hello? Anybody there?”

_Seriously… what the hell?_ Ed looked around the room, wondering if he was being pranked, eventually answering the voice with a hesitant, “Hello?”

Dean Winchester’s voice spoke again. “Got him. Listen to me. This is Dean Winchester. I play the hunter Dean Smith on _Not Natural._ We accidentally traded angel radios the other day when we bumped into each other.”

Ed glanced at his angel radio then, and noticed it was flashing. “Oh… _oh.”_ He tentatively picked it up, trying to make sense of this bizarre turn of events. “Dean, I see. Okay?”

“What's your name, son?” Dean asked through the radio.

“Ed.”

“Ed, I remember you. From the convention, right? You asked all those little technical questions about the EMF meter, and I was a little short with you.”

Okay, here was his chance to make Dean understand that he was able to tell the difference between fantasy and reality. “Yes, yes, I know, Dean, and I actually wanna… I just wanted to tell you that I thought a lot about what you said...”

“It's okay. Now, listen...” Dean interrupted.

“But I want you to know that I'm not a complete brain case, okay? I understand completely that it's just a TV show,” Ed replied, needing to explain.

“Hold… Wait a minute…” Dean interrupted again.

“I know there's no ghosts or ghouls…”

“Stop. Stop for a second. Stop. Wait.” Dean interjected, firmly.

Undeterred, Ed continued, “No EMF meter, no supernatural.”

“It's all real,” Dean disclosed, causing Ed to pause, and sit still in shock for a second as he pondered on what he’d just been told.

He knew this could be an elaborate hoax, and yet, despite everything, he trusted Dean Winchester. _Holy crap… it was all true?_

“Oh, my God, I knew it. I knew it! I knew it!” He blurted, unable to contain his excitement any longer.

“Our band of hunters is in a lot of trouble, and we need your help,” Dean whispered conspiratorially.

~~~

With the help of Ash, Crowley had destroyed every angel banishing sigil in Heaven, and now they had split up, he was walking through one of the many hallways in search of anything else he might be able to do to help. He knew he had a reputation for being sarcastic and grumpy, but he did care about his friends, and the angels too... especially Balthazar, who had really grown on him. He found he couldn’t bear the thought of something bad happening to any of them.

Rounding a corner, he suddenly noticed an angel in its true form, clinging to the ceiling.

“Fergus, it's you. Thank Chuck,” it said, in a voice Crowley recognized.

“Balthazar? What are you doing up there?”

Balthazar took on the human guise that Crowley was familiar with once more, and jumped down from the ceiling. Strangely, his human vessel seemed to be flickering, as if he wasn’t quite able to sustain it. “I avoided capture by hiding up there. Where is everyone?”

Obviously Balthazar had missed out on Loki, and all of his diabolical scheming.

“Come with me. I'll explain on the way,” Crowley said, taking off to find the rest of the angels, with his angel blade at the ready. He’d had enough of being ambushed today, so as far as he was concerned, he couldn’t be too careful.

~~~

Dean was deeply concerned about Castiel. As well as not being able to heal all of his wounds, his human vessel kept flickering, as if his grace was suffering along with the fluctuation of Heaven’s power. They needed to fix this problem as soon as they could, before his grace drained away completely.

“Alright, we're at level C, hallway five. Now what?” He said into the radio, knowing that Ed was on the other end, looking at a detailed set of plans.

Ed’s voice crackled through the receiver. “Go past the panic room, to your second left through the passage. Now, that leads to a door with a quincunx painted on it.”

Dean located the door, and was about to turn the handle, when Ed spoke again. 

“You know what? I'm gonna get Harry. He knows the system in the vault better than anybody alive.”

Oh, yeah, the more help they could get, the better. As they waited for further instruction - Castiel leaning heavily on the door frame - Dean heard an unfamiliar voice greet Ed through the angel radio, 

“Hi, Ed.”

Ed’s tone was friendly, but his message was to the point. “No time for pleasantries, Harry. We have a level five emergency. You've still got the walk-through for the vault, right?”

“Yeah,” Harry replied. “I can talk you through the whole thing. Whatever you do... don’t open the door until I explain the first step.”

~~~

If Loki had had his way, he would have stayed in Heaven and personally made sure Castiel never got out of that chair again. Those angels needed to be gotten rid of for good. He wasn’t sure how easy it would have been to get out of there once Heaven completely powered down though, so he had to leave before he’d finished the job.

Back in his realm and feeling victorious, he had a sudden bad feeling when one of his men approached. “I have just received word that Dean Winchester and his friends have escaped custody.”

_No… how could this have happened?_ “What? Find them!” Loki raged.

“But, sir! If we go back to Heaven, we will be trapped.” 

Loki would not accept this insubordination. “You might make it back out in time if you hurry. Find them!” He shouted furiously.

~~~

Following Harry’s instructions, Dean had opened the door to the vault, turning the handle in the opposite direction from the one he would have expected. Apparently, if he’d turned it in the usual direction, this would have activated a lockdown, which wouldn’t have been reversible for hours.

The safe was situated at the far end of the room, and the path looked fairly clear - other than an interesting looking floor pattern up ahead, and further on, some spikes that were protruding from either side of the wall, and appeared to be moving in and out. _Well, isn’t this just great?_

Dean sighed inwardly. “All right, Ed, I see a tree of pain symbol on the wall. What do we do next?”

“Mix the sage and the dried goat’s blood, then carefully cover the symbol with it. This will stop the poison-coated darts from shooting out and hitting you, turning you against each other.

“Darts? Why is it always darts?” Dean complained, as he and Castiel prepared the mixture.

“There will be a puff of blue smoke,” Ed warned too late, as Dean and Castiel were engulfed in a cloud so thick, Dean couldn’t see a thing for a few seconds.

Coughing, Dean said sarcastically, “Thanks for the heads-up, Ed!” Castiel was quiet, but the smoke had made his hair stick up at all angles. “You okay?”

Castiel spluttered a little bit, and nodded yes, as they covered the symbol, before moving further into the vault.

Now they were closer to the floor pattern, Dean could see that they were tiles, and each one bore an Enochian letter. He was certain that they would be in danger if they got this wrong, and he just knew that whoever created this had to have gotten their inspiration from Indiana Jones and the Last Crusade. “Wait a minute. We gotta go across this thing?”

Ed answered in the affirmative, “Yes.”

“Stick close to me,” Dean advised Castiel, gesturing for him to get into position.

Castiel did as suggested, standing so close to Dean, that he could feel Castiel’s breath on the back of his neck, and his hands lightly resting on his hips. _Oh, fuck… this is gonna be torture,_ he thought as his heart started racing, and his breathing became shallow.

“Dean, what I'd give to see what you're seeing,” Ed said then, forcing Dean to focus.

“What are you talking about?” Dean asked, mystified.

“You're in Heaven! It must be spectacular,” Ed explained, voice full of wonder.

Dean had to admit that it was kind of cool; he just hadn’t thought about it much, what with everything that had happened in the last couple of days.

“The sequence for the tiles is L. E. G. N. A,” Ed informed them, and Dean took a moment to realise that that was ‘Angel’ spelled backwards. Dean was unable to read Enochian, so it was up to Castiel to indicate the path they needed to take through the tiles. Dean stepped gingerly onto the first one, and when it stayed firm under their feet, they moved carefully onto the next.

As they continued onto the next letter, Dean asked the question that had been on his mind since his first encounter with Loki. “Ed, why do you think Loki wants the Book of the Damned so much? He probably can’t even read it, right?”

“I doubt it,” Ed confirmed. “Although, if he had the codex, it would be possible for him to decipher it.”

“The Codex, huh? Well then, we need to make sure he doesn’t get his hands on either of them, don’t we?” 

“We are agreed on that. But Harry believes he can read enough of it to perform a spell that will reverse time by thirteen seconds.”

Castiel spoke for the first time since they entered the vault, his lips grazing the nape of Dean’s neck as they moved. “Why thirteen seconds? That's really not enough time to do anything of any importance.”

“It'd be time to redeem a single mistake,” Dean said, trying not to tremble at the sensation of Castiel’s lips grazing him.

“What?” Castiel asked, obviously wanting an explanation.

At that moment, however, a bullet whizzed past Dean’s ear, and he looked back to see one of Loki’s men, firing at him. Last time he saw them they had angel blades... where the hell did the gun come from? He and Castiel were unable to run, because they were still standing on the tile pattern, and couldn’t afford to make any false moves.

Castiel lifted his hand and his eyes glowed blue, as he used his grace to close the vault door. That effort seemed to drain him, and he leaned heavily on Dean, trying to regain some of his strength. 

_Oh, damn._

~~~

Jo had managed to locate a handful of angels, and get them back to Heaven through the rifts, but it hadn’t had any effect on the fluctuating power. The lights were still flickering on and off… plus, they now had another problem; it seemed that some of Loki’s men had returned. Loki had probably realized that they’d escaped… _dammit._

She and Hannah ran into Ash, who was trying to keep one step ahead of the bad guys. Jo grabbed him, and pulled him into a side room, along with Hannah. “Ash, we’ve gotta do something about Loki’s men. They’re making this situation worse.”

“Listen, I'll go back out and create a distraction. I got this.” Ash waved his angel blade around, displaying a distinct lack of skill or dexterity. “I'm okay, I might be able to hold them back long enough, until Dean and Castiel restore the power.”

“That's suicide,” Jo reprimanded. 

“I'm just a glorified extra, Jo. I'm a dead man anyway. If I'm gonna die, I'd rather go out a hero than a coward.”

“Ash, Ash, maybe you're the plucky comic relief. You ever think about that?” Jo took him by the arm and held him back.

“Plucky?” Ash looked confused, as if he didn’t know what the word meant.

Jo laughed then, as a sudden thought of how to deal with Loki’s men came to her. “Well, besides, I just had this really interesting idea.”

Ash stared at her, with concern. “Are you stoned?”

~~~

When Crowley and Balthazar reached the garrison, they were greeted with an unpleasant sight. The constant flickering of the remaining angels’ vessels suggested to Crowley that they were experiencing the same problem as Balthazar. A number of them had fallen to the floor, and Crowley could see the light going out in their eyes, as if their grace was draining out of them as Heaven powered down. It was only a matter of time before it was too late for them... and Balthazar too. 

“They're dying,” Balthazar observed, sadly.

“We’ve got to help them,” Crowley said, looking around frantically for a solution.

“The other angels don’t realize that we could defeat Loki if we all used our grace at the same time. Together we could be so powerful.” Balthazar sighed as he saw how his brethren suffered. “But sir, perhaps together we might revive them, using our combined strength.” 

_Maybe, for once, him being a demon could be a good thing._

~~~

After resting for a moment or two, in the hopes that Castiel would feel stronger, Dean led them across the last tile, and onto the ground on the other side. “Alright, Ed, we're across. Now what?”

“Don’t move until I get the sequence for the wall spikes,” Ed said, altogether too cheerfully, as far as Dean was concerned.

"Wall spikes?” Dean tried not to sound like he was whining, but... seriously? “Well, screw that. How are we supposed to get through this?”

“Corbett, do you have the sequence yet?” Ed inquired of another of his friends.

Dean could just about make out the faraway voice of Corbett in the background. “Okay, the sequence is two two four two.”

“What is this thing?” Dean asked, belatedly realizing that the spikes on either side came close enough to touch, and the only way he and Castiel could get past was to know when each set would go back into the wall. The sadist who came up with this really wanted them to suffer.

“Two two four two,” Ed repeated. 

“I mean, surely the first two traps are enough.” Dean carried on undeterred with his complaint. “We shouldn't have to do this. Why is it even here?”

Dean already knew the answer to that; it was because it was on the television show, where the set designer obviously had a hard-on for Indiana Jones. That didn’t make it any easier to deal with, though.

“This episode was badly written!” He muttered under his breath, and he felt Castiel tense up behind him. He had a horrible feeling that Castiel had heard that... hopefully he didn’t understand what Dean meant by it.

Ed was talking again, “Okay, Dean, now, as soon as the first set of spikes hit, you...”

“They just did!”

“Okay, go now.”

Dean and Castiel jumped forward, and the spikes they’d just passed sprung out behind them. _Jesus!_

“Go!” Ed shouted, and they jumped forward again.

He urged them to, “Go!” Once more, then, “Stop!”

_This is utterly insane,_ Dean thought, as they went through the sequence a second time. His idea with the samulet better damn well work after this.

Finally, they passed the last set of spikes, one of them barely missing Dean’s side. “Whoever wrote this episode should die!” Dean grumbled, realizing too late that Castiel had definitely heard that. 

The angel flinched beside him, but said nothing.

_Shit._

~~~

After Jo had explained her plan to Ash and Hannah, they had run out of their hiding place and lured Loki’s men to the room they were in earlier, where Jo had opened the rifts. With a flash and a few wisps of smoke, she had reopened the rift to the world containing the werepire, and they were caught unaware when Ash and Hannah shoved them through it.

_Oh yeah, that had worked like a charm._

“It's the simple things in life you treasure,” Jo said, delighted that her plan had been such a success. On the screen, they saw the werepire close in on Loki’s men, and she smiled happily at Hannah.

“That's great. Now, we better get...” Jo heard Ash say, but the rest of his words faded into insignificance; Hannah had placed her hands on either side of Jo’s face, and was currently kissing her within an inch of her life. 

_Damn, that feels good,_ she thought, as she kissed Hannah back with a passion that increased by the second.

“Hey, get a room, guys, okay? Hey, Jo,” Ash said then, as Hannah did something incredible with her wings. 

_Oh... fuck, yes. Right there._

“Oh, no, that's not right,” Ash said, sounding traumatized.

_Yes it fucking is._

~~~

“Alright, Ed, we’re here. How do we open this thing?” Dean and Castiel had reached the safe, and now they were staring at it. There was no dial... no numbers on its door; in fact, all there was were a set of coloured buttons. Red, green, blue, and yellow, to be exact. 

“Okay, just push the blue button,” Ed instructed. 

“The blue button? Is that it?” Dean looked at Castiel, and shrugged.

“Yeah, why? What's wrong?” Ed confirmed.

“Nothing, I just thought it'd be more complicated than that.” Dean pressed the button, and was amazed to feel the door opening. Inside it sat the samulet, but there was no sign of the Colt. He had no idea what had happened to it; all he could hope was that the bad guys hadn’t gotten hold of it. _Unlikely, considering the lengths he and Castiel had gone through to get to the damn vault._ Taking out the samulet, he held it up to show Castiel, who nodded in acknowledgment.

Now all they had to do was get the hell out of there, and bring the samulet to the Hand of God.

Dean really didn’t want to go back through those damned traps again, so he was very relieved when Castiel pointed to a one-way door to the right of the safe, and led him through it. 

_Awesome._

~~~

Despite their best efforts, Crowley and Balthazar hadn’t managed to stop the grace-draining; it seemed that the combined strength of a demon and one angel just wasn’t enough. Then, just as Crowley was beginning to give up hope for the angels’ survival, the power miraculously stopped flickering, and one by one, the angels began to revive.

“Fergus, the power, it's normalizing,” Balthazar exclaimed, his vessel no longer flickering. 

Samandriel picked himself off the floor, and beamed excitedly. “We are saved. He has saved us. Dean Smith has saved us!”

_For fuck’s sake… really?_ Crowley had done his part too, dammit. Why did he never get any recognition? “It's just not fair,” he moaned to no one, because no one cared. 

Sighing heavily, he turned to his friend, who was waiting by the door. “All right, Balthazar, let's get back to the Hunter Hub.”

Before they could get moving, however, Crowley saw the tip of an angel blade appear through the centre of Balthazar’s chest, as a blinding light poured from his mouth and eyes.

“Balthazar? Balthazar?” Crowley shouted, realizing that he’d been stabbed from behind by one of Loki’s men.

He rushed over to his friend helplessly as his lifeless body fell to the ground, his wings burning into the floor and walls. Tears welled in Crowley’s eyes as he dropped to his knees and gently cradled Balthazar’s body. He felt a sorrow and a rage he was entirely unfamiliar with. “Balthazar, I shall avenge you. No one in the history of torture's been tortured with torture like the torture he’ll be tortured with!”

Crowley could see the bastard who’d delivered the fatal blow running away, and he became infused with a determination to kill him. He picked up Balthazar’s angel blade and set off in hot pursuit, a righteous anger boiling up inside him. Rounding a corner, he spotted the fucker up ahead, and he sped up and launched himself at his quarry, yelling furiously.

If Crowley had anything to do with it, this scumbag would be going straight to hell.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I asked Any for help in spelling out the Enochian letters for the word angel, and not only did she come through for me, she also made me another piece of art for the scene. Also, in a delightfully inspired moment, she made the 'bad' letters spell out the word Trump. Any... you're a genius.


	7. Episode Seven

Castiel might have been extremely old, but until a few years ago he’d never had much interest in humanity; he’d always left that to other angels who didn’t have a garrison to command.

All of that changed when he discovered the historical documents of the _Not Natural_ hunters. Heaven had suffered a series of heavy losses at the hands of Loki, and with the absence of their God, the angels were losing hope... losing faith.

They had changed their whole society, believing that living like their favourite hunters would help them to defeat Loki, but alas, this plan hadn’t worked; Loki was as vengeful and vicious as ever. In a last-ditch effort to defeat him, it was decided that a delegation of angels would go to earth and appeal for help from the hunters they admired so much. They had other connections among the hunter network, but this had felt like a case that only Dean Smith and his crew could solve.

Castiel’s first encounter with Dean hadn’t been quite as welcoming as he’d hoped; in fact, although Dean had agreed to help, he’d been almost dismissive. The second time, however, had been very different. Dean still seemed dismissive, and disinterested towards the other angels, but with Castiel, Dean was attentive and friendly, and Castiel began to wonder if Dean was interested in him sexually.

Despite his millennia of disinterest in human affairs, Castiel did understand that the majority of people were only interested in sexual intimacy with those of the opposite gender. There were some, however, who had a preference for the same gender, and a significant number who had no preference at all; a person’s gender was irrelevant. Dean, it seemed, fell into this last category, if the hungry way he looked at Castiel was any indication. 

Angels were neither male nor female, and utterly indifferent to sexual orientation, but Castiel was well aware that his vessel was firmly male. He was surprised, then, to discover that this made no difference to Dean, and the more time they spent together, the more Castiel wished to act on these feelings Dean had awakened in him. 

In fact, by the time Dean and the other hunters went off to the other world to retrieve the replacement Hand of God, Castiel had had enough of staring at Dean’s mouth, and he planned to find a secluded spot upon Dean’s return, to show him the strength of his desire. He wanted more than anything to experience sexual intimacy with the most attractive human in existence... to entwine his grace with the brightest soul he had ever encountered.

Naturally, things hadn’t gone to plan. First, Dean had become trapped in the other world and attacked by monsters, then Castiel had been captured by Loki and tortured for the god’s amusement. Castiel had been overjoyed to see Dean safely back in Heaven, but the bizarre story Dean had told about the historical documents not being true had been extremely upsetting. He found it difficult to know what to believe, and as Castiel assisted Dean on his quest to retrieve the samulet, he found himself falling silent as he attempted to process all that had happened between them.

Now though... now he’d had enough of ignoring his feelings. Being in such close proximity to Dean while they went through the obstacle course had set his attraction to Dean aflame, and the sense of euphoria when the samulet had recharged the Hand of God had caused an immense stirring inside him. He gazed deeply into Dean’s eyes and moved into his personal space, and as the air around them became charged, Castiel knew what he had to do.

~~~

Dean could hear Ed’s conversation with his mom through the angel radio, as she insisted that he take the trash out.

“Mother, I cannot stress enough the severity of Dean Winchester’s predicament,” Ed grumbled, his voice disappearing into the distance as his mom called after him,

“Don't forget the recyclables!”

Dean was not particularly worried about Ed going AWOL; in fact, he was relieved. Now that the problem of the Hand of God had been solved, he wanted to speak to Castiel alone, and hopefully clear the air. 

It had been a wondrous moment when the samulet started to burn hot, and the Hand of God had sparked once again, and Castiel had even managed a smile as his injuries began to heal and vanish. But now that the danger had passed, silence had descended between them, and Dean wasn’t sure what to do. Especially as Castiel was staring at him with an intensity that made him question whether Castiel wanted to kiss him or smite him.

It might not be either of those options, of course, but Dean found that his pants were suddenly getting tighter, just thinking about the possibilities.

Castiel stepped forward, and Dean instinctively moved back. Not that he was opposed to the idea of getting up close and personal with the angel - on the contrary - but he did feel a little like he was Castiel’s prey.

Dean’s back hit the wall as Castiel moved into his personal space, tilting his head, and Dean attempted to explain... to try undoing the damage Loki had done. 

“Castiel... Cas, I...”

Any further words, however, were abruptly swallowed by Castiel’s mouth, as it collided with Dean’s. Castiel pressed him into the wall, and held Dean’s face as their lips instantly started moving together in a beautiful rhythm. They were every bit as delicious as they looked, and his tongue was eager to explore Dean’s mouth.

Dean kissed him back with everything he had, and moaned into Castiel’s mouth when the angel’s hands found their way under his t-shirt. They roamed around his skin, finding his nipples and rubbing them, and Dean broke off the kiss, gasping, and smacked the back of his head on the wall. This gave Castiel the ideal opportunity to kiss down Dean’s neck, stopping to suck a mark into his collarbone.

Castiel lifted Dean’s shirt, and panting heavily, Dean lost himself to the glorious sensations of Castiel working his way across and down his chest. It started off gentle and sweet, with little nibbles and licks, and sweet open-mouthed kisses, but it increasingly felt frantic... desperate, even. He ground hard against Dean, and his hands and mouth began to feel like they were trying to touch everywhere all at once. 

Dean wondered if the determined way Castiel was moving against him, and using his hands and mouth to explore as if he couldn’t get enough of the feel and taste of him, was because Castiel figured they probably didn’t have much time before they were interrupted. Or maybe it was that over the last few days, he’d fantasised about this as much as Dean had. Either way, it felt good... really good.

It felt even better when Castiel undid Dean’s jeans and slipped his hand inside his underwear, wrapping his long, slender fingers around Dean’s cock. 

Dean had barely managed to groan out an, “Oh, fuck,” when Castiel began stroking him expertly. He definitely didn’t learn this from the historical documents, Dean knew that much.

As Castiel worked his hand faster and faster over Dean’s shaft, he found Dean’s lips once again, kissing him with a passion Dean didn’t think he’d ever experienced before. This was starting to feel like way more than some random hookup, and Dean found he was surprisingly okay with that. He also wanted to return the favor, and get his hands - and mouth - on Castiel, but that would have to wait until he was done; it was obvious that the angel wasn’t going to let up until Dean’s needs were met.

When Castiel swiped his thumb over the tip of Dean’s cock, Dean trembled violently. Dean would be loudly moaning obscenities and encouragement - _fuck, yes... just like that_ \- if it wasn’t for the unrelenting way Castiel was kissing him, though he was managing to let out a few little noises. 

He could feel himself getting ever closer to his orgasm... hurtling would be a good word to describe it - and his breathing became shallower as his chest heaved with the effort. 

Suddenly, Castiel stopped kissing him, and gazed into his eyes with an intensity that made his toes curl. His eyes fluttered shut, and Castiel growled, “No, keep them open. I want to see you.”

That didn’t exactly make sense, as surely Dean was the one who couldn’t see if his eyes were closed. He wasn’t going to argue semantics with Castiel though, especially as the commanding way he said it was all manner of hot. He opened his eyes again, and Castiel smiled.

“Yes, that’s good. Come for me, Dean.”

Dean could do nothing but comply, and with a shout of ecstasy, he came over Castiel’s hand. Castiel worked him through it, watching Dean with a fascination, as his hand was coated in the sticky white liquid.

“Fuck... oh, fuck, _Cas.”_

Dean started to regain his composure as Castiel let go of his cock and removed his hand, and Dean belatedly wondered how uncomfortable it was going to be walking around with the evidence of his orgasm coating the inside of his underwear.

Almost as if Castiel had read Dean’s mind, he waved his hand over the area, and the wetness was gone. _Well, isn’t that a neat trick?_

Determined to give Castiel as much pleasure as he’d received, Dean grabbed hold of Castiel’s tie and yanked him forward. He nipped Castiel’s bottom lip, placing his other hand on the back of Castiel’s head, then crushed their mouths together.

Dean then flipped them around easily, so that Castiel’s back was against the wall, and dropped to his knees as Castiel stared down at him in a daze. Dean slowly popped the button on Castiel’s slacks and opened the zipper, then slid them and his underwear down until his cock was freed.

_Oh, yeah..._ Dean licked his lips at the sight. As he leaned forward and took it into his mouth, he remembered an episode of _Not Natural_ when he’d mocked one of the angels and described him as junkless. He couldn’t have been more wrong.

Dean swirled his tongue around the head of Castiel’s cock, and the angel gasped and shoved his hands into Dean’s hair, gripping the strands tightly. Dean began to bob his head backwards and forwards as much as he was able, and flattened his tongue against the underside of the now-throbbing member. 

“Dean... _Dean!_ ” Castiel couldn’t keep still, and he started thrusting into Dean’s mouth in time with Dean’s movements.

Dean fondled Castiel’s balls, feeling the way they began to draw up into his body. He wasn’t going to last much longer, but just to help push him over the edge, he slipped his hand around Castiel’s backside and ran his finger around his rim. 

That was all it took, and Castiel cried out and his eyes glowed with his grace again, as his come flooded Dean’s mouth. Dean swallowed it all as it pulsed out, and he marvelled that it had a unique taste, just like Castiel.

When he was spent, Castiel helped Dean back to his feet and kissed him again as Dean tucked him back in, and straightened them both up. When they eventually pulled apart, they smiled shyly at each other, and with a pang of disappointment that Castiel’s eyes were back to normal - because _holy fuck,_ that grace thing was hot - Dean took his hand and they set off in the direction of the Hunter Hub. 

This day had been full of twists and turns, but none were as unexpected as a passionate tryst with his favorite angel.

Dean and Castiel had barely set foot outside the Divinity Den, when they ran into a scene of mayhem. A group of angels were beating the ever living crap out of one of Loki’s men, while Crowley, armed with an angel blade, seemed to have taken on one of them single-handedly. Despite all evidence that the douchebag was dead, Crowley persisted in stabbing him, almost as if he was possessed.

“He's finished, he's finished.” Dean pulled Crowley back to his feet, and shook him gently by the shoulders. “Crowley, listen to me. It's okay, it's okay. The angels can handle it from here. We gotta go. Come on. We need to find a way to put a shield around Heaven!” He knew once Loki discovered that they’d escaped, saved the angels, and disposed of all of his men, the god would attempt to unleash hell upon them.

Thankfully, Crowley snapped out of whatever rage had fuelled him, and the three of them made their way to the Hunter Hub, where they were reunited once more with Sam, Bobby, and Ash.

“We found the Book of the Damned.” Sam held up the creepy looking artefact. “We’re no closer to deciphering it yet, though.”

With any luck they wouldn’t need to use any of the spells contained within its pages, but at least Dean knew they had Ed’s friend Harry as back up if necessary. “Great work, guys. Now, we’ve gotta find a way to shield Heaven from Loki. He’s not gonna let us get away with this.”

Ash had that petrified look on his face once again, and Dean was torn between feeling sorry for the guy, and wishing he would get a grip. He decided to ignore him, and focus on something more important, like a plan to protect Heaven. 

“What if we get all the angels to combine their grace?” Crowley suggested. “That kind of power should protect them from anything, gods included. Loki knows they’re more powerful together; which is why he sent so many of them into those alternate universes.”

_Holy shit._ Dean was impressed. “That... is a really good idea, buddy.” He shot Crowley a thumbs up, then glanced at Castiel. “Can you do that, Cas? Do a Vulcan mind meld... thing, and create a shield with your grace?”

Castiel tilted his head and shot Dean a puzzled look. “I don’t understand that reference. But I believe that Fergus is right; together we can defeat Loki.”

Dean had gotten up close and personal with Cas’s grace, and he had no doubt that this would work. He would prefer not to be parted from Cas, even for something as important as this, but being in close proximity to a host of angels all glowing together would probably cause him to go blind.

“Be careful, Cas,” he said, as Castiel headed for the door. “And may the force be with you.”

Castiel scrunched up his nose and stared at Dean, then disappeared through the door. Okay, so Castiel hadn’t gotten that reference either; didn’t mean Dean was going to stop making them. He could feel Sam watching him curiously, but he didn’t react. Sam was almost certainly wondering if he and Castiel were having a ’thing’, and while - yes - it was true, they could discuss that later. Right now, there were more pressing matters to attend to.

“Hey, while we’re about it, let’s hit that blue meanie with everything we’ve got.”

~~~

Dean felt the moment the angels’ grace shield took effect; the energy surge that pulsed through Heaven was incredible. On top of that, Sam, Crowley and Bobby had found some great spells to throw at Loki and his henchdicks, including one that would literally stop them in their tracks by immobilizing them. Sam and Bobby had been casting them for about ten minutes when Loki’s ugly mug appeared in front of them in a cloud of green smoke.

“How adorable! The actors are going to play witches with me,” he barked. “Let me remind you, I am a god. If you are counting on me to blink, then you are making a deadly mistake.”

Despite this display of bravado, however, it was clear for everyone to see that Loki’s words weren’t quite ringing true. He might be talking a big game, but there was fear in his eyes. 

“Well, let me tell you something, Loki. It doesn't take a great actor to recognize a bad one. You're sweating!” Dean countered.

“You fool! You fail to recognize that as a god, I am one of the most powerful beings in existence.”

“And what _you_ fail to realize is that the angels have joined together to create a shield more powerful than you could possibly imagine,” Dean said, as one of Sam’s spells hit him and he was turned into a popsicle.

“Puny god,” Dean muttered under his breath, as Sam, Crowley, Bobby and Ash jumped up and down, punched the air, and cheered in celebration.

_Looks like he broke into the wrong goddamn rec room,_ Dean thought, breathing a sigh of relief, and allowing himself a little smile.

The sound of laughter came floating down the hallway, growing increasingly louder until Castiel and a whole host of angels burst into the room, clearly finding something hilarious.

It had hardly been long at all since they last saw each other, but _man..._ was Dean pleased to see him. Paying no attention to the laughter, he rushed over and pulled him into a hug. “Castiel! You did it. Come here.”

Castiel seemed unable to contain his merriment, and he pulled out of the hug, chuckling. “Only half a car, mounted on the back of a trailer. A very clever deception indeed.” He and the rest of the angels laughed raucously again, and Dean smiled fondly at him.

Evidently, Castiel had done some thinking while they were apart, and decided that Dean had lied about the acting. Maybe that was just as well... although as Dean was hoping that Castiel would come back to earth with him, the truth was bound to come out eventually, wasn’t it?

“Are we ready to go home?” Crowley asked, pulling Dean out of his thoughts.

“Yeah, I think we are. We’ll just need to get the portal open again, and we can be on our way.” Dean could see Castiel looking at him sadly out of the corner of his eye, and he realized there was a conversation they needed to have.

“We were hoping you could stay with us,” Castiel said, before Dean had a chance to ask.

Dean didn’t want to be parted from Castiel, but there was no way he could stay in Heaven; it was for angels, not the likes of him. Plus he had a life, down on earth, which… okay, wasn’t always perfect, but with Castiel by his side, it could be great. Dean needed to let him know that, and remembering that he’d prayed to Castiel before, he decided to try it again.

_Cas, you know I can’t stay here, but you could come down to earth, couldn’t you? I don’t wanna leave you behind._

Castiel stared at him in wonder, and Dean knew that the prayer had reached him. A huge smile broke out on his face, and he nodded.

_Awesome!_

Okay, they just needed Jo - and probably Hannah, considering the way those two were around each other - and this adventure would be over. Dean clapped his hands together decisively. “All right, set her up.”

Just as Dean was about to call Jo on her angel radio, to tell her that they were leaving, the door opened and she came through. It was a surprise to see that Hannah wasn’t with her, though. “Hey, Jo, where’s Hannah? I thought you two were joined at the... everything.”

Jo didn’t reply; instead, she walked purposefully towards Dean and lifted her hand, revealing an angel blade. As she drew closer, she raised the weapon menacingly. 

“Hey, you know, you could put an eye out with that thing,” Dean quipped, trying to defuse the tension as he wondered what the hell Jo was up to.

A creepy smile spread across Jo’s face, and a chill ran down Dean’s spine. _Has she been possessed?_

“Jo?” He said, attempting to get through to his friend.

Jo lunged at him, catching him in the shoulder with the blade, and the shock of it caused him to collapse on the floor in agony. Reeling from the attack, and momentarily unable to catch his breath, Dean watched as her form blurred, and it was suddenly Loki standing over him.

_Sonovabitch. T_ he effects of that spell had obviously only been temporary, and Loki had been able to use that to his advantage, by disguising himself to sneak up on Dean. Lying on the floor wounded, he could only look on helplessly as Loki attacked everyone else in the room.

As Loki went on his vicious rampage, and one by one, the injured bodies of Dean’s friends fell to the floor, he could only think of one way to save everyone, and stop Loki once and for all. He pulled his angel radio from his pocket, and whispered into it,

“Ed! Get your friend Harry to cast the time reversal spell. Now!!” Dean knew that using the book apparently meant the creation of a ‘negative reaction of biblical proportions’, but hopefully that was an exaggeration. They needed a solution now, before Loki stabbed Castiel with that blade, and it was lights out for the angel... permanently. He was starting to feel woozy from the loss of blood, and this felt like their only chance.

A commotion from Ed, on the other end of the angel radio, was followed by an incantation, then everything went blurry as time was reset.

_Okay,_ they just needed Jo - and probably Hannah, considering the way those two were around each other - and this adventure would be over. Dean clapped his hands together decisively. “All right, set her up.”

Ah, _Jo._ Any moment now, Loki was going to come through that door, and Dean needed to take him out immediately... and there he was, right on cue. Dean rushed at him and knocked the angel blade from his hand, then punched him right in the face. 

“Dean, what are you doing? What are you doing?” Sam shouted, in horror. 

_Of course..._ all Sam could see was Dean hitting their friend, and to make matters worse, she was a woman, who was tiny compared to him. Dean knew how bad this must look.

Sam and Crowley grabbed him from behind and pulled him away, as Loki lay on the floor, pretending to be injured.

_Fuck!_ He had to stop Loki before he was allowed to embark on his murderous rampage once more. “Let go of me. Let... It's not Jo!” He protested, struggling against the tight hold they had on him. “That's Loki. Listen to me! I'm telling you, it's not Jo, that's Loki!”

He could see Loki transforming back into his true form once more, but Sam and Crowley had their backs to the ugly blue bastard, and were pinning Dean’s arms to his side. Nodding in Loki’s direction, he tried again. “He's gonna try to kill all of us!”

Sam’s expression was utterly horrified; he obviously didn’t believe a word Dean had said. _Goddammit!_ Did Sam really think he would suddenly attack Jo, without good reason?

Dean was about to argue that very point, when Castiel... Cas, threw himself at the evil fucker, and stabbed him with his angel blade. “Assbutt,” he said, at the now unmoving figure on the floor.

Sam and Crowley finally realized what was happening, and accepted that Dean had been telling the truth, releasing him with sheepish expressions on their faces.

Dean pulled his angel into his arms, and murmured into his ear, “I’ll thank you properly later.”

Cas trembled slightly, and Dean was suddenly full of anticipation of what was to come once they were alone again.

When Jo and Hannah came into the room a moment later, holding hands, Dean pulled out of the embrace and took hold of Cas’s hand too.

“Open the portal back to earth,” he commanded for the final time. He greatly preferred acting as a profession; it was much less hazardous to his health, and there were far less evil entities trying to destroy him.

“There’s a problem with the portal,” Jo started, grimacing. “Loki must have damaged the portal in the children’s playground. We’re gonna have to find an alternative way to get back.”

_Shit!_ That didn’t sound good. As Dean wondered what the hell they were going to do, Ed’s voice coming through the angel radio prompted Dean to lift it to his mouth and talk to the young man.

“Ed?”

“We can bring you back, Dean,” Ed said, excitedly. “It won’t be the same location, but it will be on earth.”

That was good enough for Dean. “Thanks, kid. We’ll open the portal on our end, and wait for you to give us the nod.”

Knowing it would take a little while for Ed to guide them back home, Cas took the opportunity to say his farewells to the other angels. Dean, Sam, and the rest of the cast said goodbye to them too, but it was with more of a sense of relief than anything else. At least, it certainly was for Dean.

There was a mixture of emotions as they made their way back to the portal room, and as the shimmering light appeared and grew in front of them. Dean didn’t know what the future held, especially for Cas and Hannah - would they become human, or would they still be angels? If so, were they able to go back to Heaven? It sure would be interesting finding out.

~~~

Ed was full of purpose. He was off to meet up with Harry and Corbett, to get the portal open for Dean and the rest of the hunters, and get them safely back to earth. 

Carrying his EMF meter, a couple of spell books, and some cans of spray paint, he attempted to slip by his parents unnoticed. It seemed they must have heard him above the news report playing on the TV, though, because they lowered their newspapers and stared at him. 

“This is the third day of the _Not Natural_ Con, and Dean Winchester and the rest of the cast are no-shows here at the big event, much to the disappointment of all these fans,” the news reporter announced, solemnly. Ed, of course, knew exactly why they were no-shows.

His mom raised an eyebrow at him, as he reached for the handle on the front door.

“Bye. Be back soon!” he explained.

His mom obviously wanted more information than that, however. “Well... Wait. Ed, where are you going with all that stuff?”

Ed didn’t really have a lot of time for a detailed explanation, but if his mom was interested, it would be rude not to try. “Dean and the other hunters are stuck in Heaven, because Loki damaged the portal on earth. So, we’re gonna open a new one, and help them get back home.”

His mom looked like she was carefully considering the information Ed had given her, before nodding, and saying, “Alright, dinner's at seven.” 

As he went through the door, he heard her say to his dad, “Well, he's outside.”

Obviously he was outside. _What an unnecessary thing to say,_ he thought, as he made his way to the rendezvous with his friends.

~~~

The swirling, and disorienting brightness of the portal consumed Dean, before he stepped back on earth once more, into a place that looked surprisingly like a backstage area. He saw Bobby peek his head around the huge curtain that separated them from the stage, and suddenly an excited voice announced,

“Robert Salvage, Bobby Singer! Hi, Bobby!”

Bobby disappeared from Dean’s view and the crowd went wild, as Sam joined Bobby on the other side of the curtain, and the MC continued with his introductions.

“The always-sexy Sam Wesson, Sam Winchester! Yes!”

Oh, _ohhhh…_ Dean suddenly realized where they were. It was the convention they were supposed to be at, like... three days ago? He had to hand it to Ed and Harry for bringing them out here, of all places; it was both sneaky, and awesome of them.

“Another hunter! Yes, the more, the merrier!” The MC shouted, as Ash made his way out front, followed by Jo and Hannah, who apparently still hadn’t let go of each other’s hands.

“Beth Roadhouse, Jo Harvelle, and… a friend,” the voice exclaimed.

Crowley was the next cast member to go out, as the MC shouted excitedly, “Fergus MacLeod, Crowley! Give him a big hand. He's British! Yes, sir!”

Only Dean and Cas were left backstage now, and Dean gazed into the angel’s eyes, and smiled at him. Cas smiled back, and Dean wondered if he had any idea what was going on. This was something he would have to explain later though, as now was the time to give the crowd what they wanted. After taking a moment to mentally prepare himself for what was about to happen, he gave Cas a quick peck on the lips, before taking his hand and tugging him around the curtain and onto the stage.

“Dean Smith, Dean Winchester!” The MC practically screamed, as the noise from the crowd reached fever-pitch. 

“And… another friend,” the MC concluded, as Dean squeezed Cas’s hand affectionately, then gave a little bow to the crowd, with Cas following suit.

Dean could see Ed and his friends standing in the crowd, joining in with the excitement of everyone around them. He was about to attract their attention, to thank them for everything they’d done, when a noise from behind him made him turn around.

_Loki? Holy crap,_ why wasn’t he dead, and how the hell did he manage to get through the portal?

“Quick, quick! Go, go! Move, move!” Dean uttered to the rest of the cast, as a murmur ran through the crowd.

It started as an appreciative murmur, for Loki’s impressive ‘special effects’, but this quickly turned into a chorus of boos, as Loki pulled out an angel blade. The crowd were treating him like a pantomime villain, waiting for Dean, or one of the other hunters to deal with him. 

As Dean prepared himself for yet another fight with the irritating-as-fuck god, he was amazed to see Cas reach into the pocket of his trench coat and pull out the Colt, then with absolutely no hesitation, shoot Loki right between the eyes. Loki wore an expression of shock, as he stumbled backwards, before disappearing in a cloud of green smoke.

Dean stared open-mouthed at Cas; how the hell did he sneak the Colt out of that safe without Dean seeing? _That was some sleight of hand._ And why didn’t he shoot Loki while they were still in Heaven, instead of waiting until now? Those questions would have to wait until later, because Cas’s eyes had begun to glow, and a huge shadow of his wings appeared on the wall behind them. Dean began to feel an inappropriate stirring in his pants, and the crowd enthusiastically applauded the unexpected show they had just been treated to.

Dean couldn’t act on the reaction Cas’s display of power had caused here, but he could show him how impressed he was with it. He took hold of Cas’s hand once again and drew him closer, then closed the distance between them for a brief, tender kiss. He would save the passion for when they were alone.

The MC had been watching on in silent awe, but he suddenly seemed to have found his voice once more. “True love! Yes! Wow! Come on! They're here for you, folks. Come on!”

Feeling emboldened by the enthusiastic reaction they were receiving, Dean broke off the kiss and walked to the front of the stage with Cas, raising their joined hands in triumph.

“What a show! What a show! Yes! Yes!” The MC was beginning to sound like he might explode with excitement.

Dean caught the eyes of Ed and Harry, and he saluted them solemnly. The smiles on their faces were a great reward, and Dean felt truly humbled by these exceptional young men.

“Give it up! Wow! Come on, give it up! Give it all up for the crew of your favorite show, _Not Natural!_ Wow!” The MC clapped and cheered just as loudly as the fans.

“Come on, come on!” Dean turned around to the rest of the cast, and gestured for them to come to the front of the stage for their share of the applause. They stayed where they were though, looking at him uncertainly. He realised he’d been a selfish prick, always hogging the limelight, but that was all going to change, starting today. Or maybe tomorrow.

One by one, they slowly stepped forward, and Dean encouraged them all to hold hands and bow, before pulling them into a huge group hug.

The MC hadn’t quite finished yet; he had one last important message before leaving the stage. “Don't forget to buy a _Not Natural_ T-shirt on your way out. Thank you.”

___________

Since their return to earth, Dean had started regularly hearing stories of people who had encountered monsters, and strangely, the writer of _Not Natural_ always seemed to be involved in the investigation. Also, it appeared that Ed and Harry - who now went by the collective name of Ghostfacers - were often connected to these stories too; maybe this was the negative reaction of biblical proportions they’d been warned about.

It was almost as if the world of monsters and hunters was real. _Weird._

Three months had passed since Dean Winchester’s greatest adventure... not that every day with Cas wasn’t an adventure all of its own. The sex was outstanding - sometimes bordering on supernatural - Cas didn’t understand any of his references, and they never did have that talk about _Not Natural_ being a show, and not a documentary. With the show being recommissioned, and filming ready to start tomorrow, he really couldn’t put it off any longer.

They were lying in bed, and Cas was on top of him, pressing him into the mattress and peppering his face with kisses.

“Are we going to record the new historical documents tomorrow?” Cas asked, trailing his lips down Dean’s neck.

“Er, Cas... about that.” Dean hesitated, trying to find the right words.

Cas lifted his head and stared at Dean with the most innocent of expressions. “I know,” he said, before collapsing in a fit of laughter.

_Why, you sneaky sonovabitch,_ Dean thought, before taking hold of Cas’s face, pulling him back up, and kissing him senseless.

~~~

TV TRAILER: "Not Natural"

And now, back again after ten years, the scary new adventures of Not Natural.

_Rolling Credits:_

Dean Winchester as Dean Smith

Sam Winchester as Samuel Wesson

Crowley as Fergus MacLeod

Bobby Singer as Robert Salvage

Jo Harvelle as Beth Roadhouse

Castiel as Castiel 

Jane Doe as Hannah

Ash as Ash

Montage of clips from the upcoming series

-Dean fighting a werepire

-Castiel smiting a room full of demons

-Sam running his hand through his hair, while researching 

-Bobby in a police station, wearing his FBI suit

-Crowley sealing a deal with a kiss

-Jo and Hannah in a haunted house, ready with their iron bars

-Ash grinning at the camera and giving a thumbs up. 

BOBBY

Family don’t end with blood.


	8. Episode Eight

“So, what if my character keeps his shirt on, and does more than just research?” Sam looked from one face to another, giving them the full puppy dog eye treatment.

As with all of the other actors involved, he was delighted that the show was returning, but he really hoped that his character would be given a more weighty role. Something he could sink his teeth into… maybe even a storyline of his own. 

The producer, a guy named Bob, smiled encouragingly. “We’ll discuss it, sure. But Sam, you know the viewers don’t just want to see that magnificent hair. They wanna see those abs too.”

_ True enough, _ thought Sam, running his fingers through his locks. Could he really deny the viewers what they wanted? After all, what was he working out for, if not to show off the goods from time to time?

_ Hopefully he could do both. _

~~~

Bobby had always wanted to try his hand at directing, so when the producers asked him if he was interested in taking the helm for an episode of  _ Not Natural,  _ he jumped at the chance. 

Sure, it meant working longer hours, and having to spend more time on set, but his ever-helpful assistants always made sure he was regularly supplied with snacks. Also, amazingly, none of those idjits - chief prankster Sam Winchester, in particular - had messed with him…  _ yet. _

Hopefully it would stay that way, and he would be able to deliver an episode that everyone would love.

_ Okay… lights, camera... “ _ Action!”

~~~

Crowley had been working hard to be more personable with the fans... and his fellow cast members... and the crew... everyone, in fact. He wouldn’t say that he had suddenly become sunshine and rainbows, but he’d definitely toned down his demonic side.

He’d discovered that the conventions could actually be quite enjoyable if he engaged with the fans, rather than treating them as a nuisance that he had to endure. As a young boy approached his table and quoted that line - “even when I lose, I win” - Crowley smiled.

If Balthazar could see him now…  _ he’d be impressed, wouldn’t he? _

~~~

If there was one thing Jo knew about being a woman in the hunting world, it was that knowing how to shoot a gun was essential. That was why she’d brought Hannah to the gun range to teach her how to handle a weapon. 

Of course, it also gave her the perfect opportunity to get up close and personal with her girlfriend - not that she ever needed an excuse - and press her body up against Hannah’s, and maybe she would even do that amazing thing with her wings again…

Hannah smiled at Jo as she waited for instruction, and Jo felt the pleasant flutter of butterflies in her stomach.

What were they doing again? Oh right...  _ guns. _

~~~

Ash was stoked that he had been made a regular on the show. He was looking forward to working with the rest of the cast again, even though he wasn’t entirely sure what kind of character he would be playing - comic, serious, action hero… maybe a mixture of all three. But they could throw whatever they want at him; he survived a hellish experience in Heaven, so  _ bring it on. _

_ Who knows… his character might even finally get a last name. _

~~~

Dean had never enjoyed being with a partner so much. In fact, he’d never wanted to spend quality time with a partner before, but Castiel... Cas, was something special. His otherworldliness, his wings, his adorably endearing inability to understand any of Dean’s references. 

He wouldn’t want to change any of the other stuff, ‘cause  _ damn…  _ Cas was one hot angel. But he could do something about teaching Cas some of his references. Starting today, he would show Cas all the classic movies, kicking off with  _ Tombstone. _

_ Oh yeah, nothing beats a good cowboy movie… except maybe sharing it with your favorite angel of the lord. _

**FADE OUT.**

  
  


**THE END.**


End file.
